Very Simple Venom
by The Casual Californian
Summary: The Isle of Berk is left in ruins. Hiccup and his friends are nowhere to be found. And a new brand of sickness through sorcery has just arrived from the East. It is up to a group of pirates to unravel the mystery and rescue the Vikings from harm before they are taken away for good. [UPDATE: Genre has been officially changed to Horror.]
1. Smoke & Silence

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: There are a few changes made from the original source material in order to fit this particular narrative.

* * *

ONE

SMOKE & SILENCE

* * *

Reverix the Viking had counted sixteen ships that had drifted out of the morning fog. None of them appeared occupied, but they didn't appear to be in top shape, either. Most of the masts had been torn, and small fires had spread from the bow to the stern.

Reverix held his breath. He had immediately recognized the design of the ships. He wished he could see straight through the fog and see if his friends on the Isle of Berk were in the midst of a confrontation with an unseen enemy. In the meantime, he heard nothing. Everything had grown silent. Something didn't seem right.

Reverix ordered his pirate comrades to row faster while calling for the second-in-command. He kept his eyes to the North even when Furlock the Gaul came up from behind and asked, "What's going on?"

Reverix replied, "Stay alert. Stoick is in trouble. Tell everyone to ready their weapons."

Furlock didn't complain. He ordered the other pirates to keep their axes and maces close.

The pirate ship sailed past the ruined vessels with no interruptions. When the fog soon dissipated, Reverix had a much better view of his primary destination.

"What the hell?"

The Hooligan Village had undergone some significant changes. The two giant statues sitting in the waters had been completely demolished, replaced by broken stone severed at the neck. Upon closer inspection, as the ships moved further inland, Reverix could see half of the cottages in the Hooligan Village were blackened, presumably by previous flames. The wreckage resulted in small trails of smoke soaring upwards above the island.

Reverix tightened his grip on his axe as he waited for his own ship to reach the shore.

Furlock shook his head. "I can't see anyone in the village."

Reverix replied, "Me, neither. When we get to shore, try not to make a sound. An ambush is always possible."

He looked behind him to see Denin, his blond-haired nephew, wielding his double daggers with both hands. Compared to the other swashbucklers on the ship, the nineteen-year-old man was rather slim and inexperienced with life at sea. But thankfully, his relentless training for the past several weeks paid off.

With a stern look on his face, Denin gave a little nod. "I'm ready for anything."

Reverix nodded back. "Good. Let's do this."

* * *

They reached the shore and jumped out of the wooden vessel. Everyone on board stayed close to avoid any unnecessary separations. Reverix led the way as he and his comrades tiptoed up the steep cliffs. He listened for any unusual noises that originated from the village. So far, the silence couldn't be broken.

Nevertheless, he stayed cautious. With both Furlock and Denin by his side, he was the first to enter the village. The anticipation for a possible ambush proved to be short-lived. The pirates didn't find anything of the sort. Instead, they found themselves in a desolate location, modified by an unknown force.

Reverix looked all around. There were no Hooligans. There were no dragons. Reverix and his comrades had stumbled upon an empty village filled with burned-down cottages. He looked down at the grass to see if he could spot even a single drop of blood. The grass remained lush and devoid of human remains.

He couldn't imagine what had transpired in the Isle of Berk in the past several days. The smoke rising from the wreckage made him imagine the uncertainty of the Haddock family's fate. The silence arising from the village didn't help, either.

Reverix called out, "Is anyone out there?! Stoick?! Valka?! Can you hear me?!"

Only more silence had followed.

The pirates inspected the cottages, despite half of them being reduced to charred residue. Furlock provided a few updates to Reverix.

"So far, we haven't found any bodies. It's like the entire tribe had evacuated the island as quick as possible."

Reverix slid his fingers across his thick black beard. "I'm sure a battle took place here."

Furlock rubbed his clean-shaven chin. "We would have found bodies if that were true. Maybe they had a thunderstorm, and fierce lightning had something to do with it."

He slowly narrowed his eyes. "Or maybe the dragons finally had enough and turned on their masters."

"It's possible. Come on, follow me. Let's take a look at the Main Hall."

* * *

Reverix, Furlock, Denin, and several other pirates found the doors to the Main Hall unhinged and lying on the floor. Once they entered the building, they suspected foul play. The tables had been turned over. Several drops of blood had been imprinted on the floor. And, much to Reverix's dismay, the portraits hanging on the wall had been smeared with what appeared to be black paint. The images of Stoick and his son Hiccup were now obscured by some sinister motive.

Now more concerned than before, the visitors turned their attention toward the Haddock House. The rooms remained empty, as if the family that occupied it had just moved out without even taking their own possessions.

Reverix didn't even realize that he breathed a little heavier than usual. The drops of blood in the Main Hall, as well as the desecrated portraits caused this sudden anxiety. Everything felt so normal during his previous visit to the Isle of Berk. He remembered the fun times. He remembered Hiccup and his friends pulling a hilarious prank that led to Reverix rolling on the floor and laughing. Now, he could only wonder where the twenty-year-old heir had run off to.

Now, he assumed the worst. When he returned to the Main Hall, Denin had found something lying alongside a table that had been torn in half in the center. He left it on the floor to show his uncle. Reverix closed his eyes for a moment. This nightmarish scenario grew even worse. He crouched down and picked up the piece of metal lying on the floor. He knew what it was. He had seen Hiccup wear it all the time.

Furlock gazed at it and asked, "What is that?"

Reverix let out a deep sigh. "It's Hiccup's left leg."

The prosthetic leg had been partially smeared with the same black paint that had remained on the portraits. Reverix touched it. It stuck to his fingertips. He wiped it away on his coat.

"It's very dry. And it doesn't smell like paint at all."

Denin shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe it's squid ink."

"There _are_ no squids in the Barbaric Archipelago."

Furlock kept his eyes on the portraits hanging on the wall. "Well, whatever it is, someone was _really_ uncouth enough to spread it around."

Reverix handed the prosthetic leg to his nephew as he gave a little groan. "I don't understand this. I really wish I had seen everything that happened here."

Denin looked around. "It's so weird. This place is a complete mess."

He looked down at the piece of metal in his hands. "What I don't get is...why did Hiccup leave this behind?"

Neither Reverix nor Furlock had time to answer that question. Another pirate appeared from the front entrance, almost out of breath.

He yelled, "We found a survivor!"

They wasted no time in running out of the Main Hall and joining the other pirates in the center of the village. They had circled around the permanent resident who lay flat on the grass.

Reverix had been informed that the old woman had just appeared out of nowhere and collapsed immediately to the ground. He looked to see her as a short and broad figure. Right away, he knew who she was.

"Gothi!"

He fell to his knees and took her hand. Her clothes had been tattered, her hair left in a disorderly state. Her eyes were closed, but Reverix felt determined to get a few important answers from her.

"Gothi, can you hear me?"

He lightly slapped her on the cheek. Furlock and Denin stood nearby as they waited for her revival.

Reverix whispered, "Come on, Gothi. Wake up."

Finally, the old woman opened her eyes. She remained silent as usual.

"Look at me. It's Reverix. Remember me? I'm here to help you."

He hoped to see a little smile, but it didn't form on her face.

He asked, "Do you feel weak?"

She slowly shook her head.

Reverix snapped his fingers at his comrades. "Bring me a scroll and a pen."

He waited for one of the pirates to hand him the exact items required for communication. He placed the pen in Gothi's hand and placed the paper scroll flat on the ground beside her.

"I need you to tell me what happened."

Gothi didn't write anything just yet.

Reverix didn't surrender his motives just yet. "Where are Stoick and Valka?"

Gothi took her time writing the first word on paper, even as she kept her eyes on Reverix. The man beside her started to pay close attention to see the answer.

When she finished, she had written only one word.

 _Somewhere_

Denin immediately crouched down and remarked, "Gothi, I found Hiccup's leg. Why did he leave this behind? What happened to him?"

Gothi's eyes suddenly grew wide. Reverix could sense the silent outburst of fear in her eyes. Her hands started to shiver.

Reverix tried to calm her down. "It's okay. You're safe here with us. Just please...tell us what happened to Hiccup."

Gothi's entire body started to shake. Despite that, she had enough strength to write her response on the scroll.

Reverix, Furlock, and Denin looked to see the answer.

 _Stolen_

Suddenly, Gothi closed her eyes and stopped shivering. Reverix checked her pulse and found it to be normal.

"She's unconscious."

He ordered two of the female pirates to take care of her.

He picked up the scroll and couldn't look away at the word written at the bottom when asked of Hiccup's whereabouts.

 _Stolen_

Without hesitation, Reverix squeezed the paper scroll in his hands. He didn't know whether to be frightened or furious. He stood up straight and made an important announcement to his troop.

"We are not leaving this island just yet. Everyone try and stay sharp, because a thorough investigation is about to begin."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED...


	2. Paint It Black

TWO

PAINT IT BLACK

* * *

They began their search immediately after Reverix's abrupt announcement. The pirates separated from each other and scattered around the Isle of Berk. They would search for anything (a trail of blood, a piece of ripped cloth, or even a toppled-down tree) that would catch their attention. Some went off into the woods, while others attempted to climb the highest peaks on the island.

In the meantime, Reverix the Viking stayed in the Haddock House. He remembered when Hiccup used to show off his journals and map drawings. Despite the fact that he hated reading, he didn't mind if he could find anything useful on paper. He would search through anything that made even the most subtle hint of Hiccup's disappearance.

Reverix entered Hiccup's room and placed his sword aside. He partook in a slow panoramic view of the place. Compared to what transpired in the village, everything here looked perfectly normal. With one look at the empty desk, Reverix spotted the stacks of books and various papers. He picked up one book and skimmed through the pages. The statements inside it had everything to do with dragons and nothing else. He tried another book, and he found it to be a journal. Unfortunately, the last written page didn't mention anything about the wreckage outside. Nor did it mention anything about the entire family's whereabouts. Disappointed, Reverix put the journal down and tried the next book.

It wasn't technically a book, but rather a large map of the Barbaric Archipelago folded neatly in a hardback. Hiccup had previously drawn it when exploring for new dragons and new territories. It appeared that the young man didn't leave anything out. The map of the Archipelago seemed complete. Reverix couldn't help but smile. He felt so impressed with Hiccup and his friends' previous accomplishments. It didn't surprise him that Stoick the Vast spoke so proudly of his own son and his dragon during Reverix's last visit. Hiccup showed Reverix the map of the Barbaric Archipelago. The leader of the pirates remembered how intricate the details had become.

At the moment, however, something about the map looked a little different than before. He brought the map closer to his face, and noticed something on the far right side. A brand new island had been drawn several inches away from the actual Archipelago. It was a rather large one, with many smaller islands surrounding it.

The name caught Reverix's attention.

 _Land of A Thousand Scars_

He knew he would have to remember the name. It didn't seem like a place he had seen before. He folded the map and placed it in his big pocket before he took his sword and left the Haddock House.

* * *

Gothi had been taken care of by another pirate for the past several minutes. Reverix found the old woman lying in an empty bed in one of the abandoned cottages, untouched by fire and ashes. Zeema, the young and slim Egyptian, sat in a chair beside her. Zeema knew how to take care of the wounded, and that's why Reverix hired her as his crew's nurse. The twenty-five-year-old woman appeared to have done the right thing at the moment: Gothi looked absolutely peaceful lying in bed.

Reverix asked, "So how is she?"

Zeema checked the old woman's pulse. "She's still alive. I haven't seen her open her eyes again, however."

"When she does, tell me immediately. I need some more answers from her."

Before he could leave the cottage, Zeema stood up and asked, "What's going on here? What happened?"

Reverix shook his head. "I don't know. This island is a complete mess. I've never seen anything like it."

Zeema brushed away a few strands of hair from her head. "I can't even think of how any of these Vikings left the island without their ships."

"They have dragons. But I'm starting to think that Furlock is right. Their dragons may have turned against them."

Reverix gazed out the window to see the rising smoke picking up speed owing to a growing tempo in the wind. Absolute silence remained as a permanent mainstay in the island. He could only hear a flock of birds in the distance. Reverix started to wonder if the silence became a vast improvement over the potential pandemonium that transpired in the Isle of Berk.

Almost immediately, Furlock the Gaul appeared on the front porch with a recognizable piece of metal in his hand.

The Gaul provided a few more updates regarding the state of Hiccup's prosthetic foot.

"I tried to find out what's on this thing. I still can't seem to figure out what it is. The black stains are not ink, nor are they made out of paint."

Reverix asked, "Is it possible that it's tar?"

"I still can't decide on it yet."

Furlock placed the piece of metal on a table. "So this Hiccup fellow…how long would he last without this?"

Reverix replied, "It's just a foot. I'm sure there are other ways to walk without it."

He did have his doubts, however. "I just hope he and his parents are safe."

Furlock asked, "Do you want me to examine the metal a little more?"

Reverix rubbed his chin. "Maybe it's time for a professional to do the job."

Furlock must have known what he meant, since he let out a short sigh. "I don't think we should waste our time with all that chemical nonsense."

Reverix started to defend another swashbuckler in his crew. "You may be correct in being superstitious, but you can't deny that we have seen it work at least twice."

Zeema joined in on the conversation. "Please, Furlock, it wouldn't hurt to try something new in our investigation."

Reverix spotted his nephew stepping inside the cottage. He whispered to Furlock and Zeema, "Now might be a good time."

The captain asked Denin, "Did you find anything?"

Denin's solemn look said it all. "We found a body. A woman in the woods not far from here."

"How did she die?"

"Uh…I have no idea."

That was enough for Reverix to exit the cottage and follow his nephew to see where they found the body.

* * *

It didn't take long for Reverix and his nephew to reach the dead body. It was located several hundred feet away from the village, right below a steep cliff. After crossing a bridge, Reverix and his nephew moved deeper into the woods.

The body had been looked after by another one of Reverix's crew members. Vidko the Russian held a crossbow in his hand while observing the surroundings. Reverix knew just how vigilant Vidko could be. The thirty-six-year-old Russian wore nothing but black and brown for most of his life. He kept his body slim, unaffected by unwanted irregularities from top to bottom. He looked like a silent assassin with an ice-cold stare.

Vidko made sure he was several feet away from the corpse. Reverix took one look at the young woman lying on her side. He held his breath for a moment. He couldn't recognize the woman. Mainly because he didn't have a chance to look at her face.

While making sure he didn't stand too close to the body, Reverix crouched down and observed the thick black ooze that stuck to her face. It completely covered her facial features, including her mouth.

In a hoarse tone, Vidko remarked, "She must have suffocated. From the looks of it, the slime was too thick for her to breathe through."

Reverix noticed the odor. "It smells familiar. It must be the same type of slime that had been smeared on the portraits."

Denin asked, "But who is she? Could it be Astrid, or Ruffnut?"

Reverix shook his head. "They both have hair that is colored gold."

He pointed at the dead body. "Look at hers. It's black."

Vidko asked, "Do you remember anyone who has black hair?"

Reverix finally stood up. "I can't at the moment. Both of you stay here. We're going to need some assistance."

"And who exactly fits the criteria for this investigation?"

"You know who."

Denin shrugged his shoulders. "Let's just give him a chance. He seems like the kind of guy who knows how it works."

* * *

Denin and Vidko had absolutely no reason to complain. As soon as Reverix found him on the other side of the island, he gave him an immediate objective regarding the dead body in the woods. Barclay the Celt always had a big smile on his face whenever a thorough investigation would also involve a little chemistry. As soon as his captain mentioned his chemicals, the Irishman ran back to the ship to grab the essential equipment for a potential examination.

Barclay, a plump and jolly sort of fellow, carried a small wooden chest filled with his personal possessions. Reverix, Denin, and Vidko stood back to see him commence with a few chemicals. First, the middle-aged Celt spent a few seconds gazing at the dead woman lying on her side.

He certainly sounded inquisitive when he opened his chest and said, "This is interesting. I have never seen anything like this."

Reverix kept his arms folded across his chest and stayed silent just like the others. The three pirates watched as Barclay the Celt open the wooden chest and pulled out a small vial made of glass. Green-colored liquid had been held inside. Barclay popped open the cork and waved the vial left and right several inches in front of the dead body, from the torso to the legs. Barclay continued to wave the open vial in front of the woman for a few seconds until he stopped immediately. The green liquid inside began to bubble, and a thin trail of steam formed from inside the small glass bottle and rose up into the air. Barclay's solemn look seemed to be a signal for a significant discovery.

Denin asked, "So what is it?"

Barclay pushed the cork back in the bottleneck. "The chemical reaction shows us how long this woman was lifeless. With that much steam, it is most likely that perchance she died two or three days ago."

He placed the vial back in the chest. "It is clear that she suffocated from all of this…whatever it is."

He wielded his dagger and bent over. It had to be slow and meticulous. Reverix, Denin, and Vidko just watched without uttering any words as Barclay used the edge of his dagger to scrape through the thick black slime on the dead body's face. As a result, he collected a good portion of the strange substance (the size of a human thumb) on his dagger. It wasn't easy, seeing as how it took a little more time to collect it than expected.

He looked a little confused. "Well, it's too thick to be paint and too soft to be tar. But there's so much of it. It is so durable that I don't believe we will be able to see who she really is. Her face is gone forever."

Denin just had to say something. "So…it's not ink?"

Barclay chuckled. "I have never seen any squids lurking in these waters."

The Celt pressed the dagger deep into the grass to detach the black ooze. Moments after cleaning his blade with a cloth, he brought out another glass vial from his chest. This time, the liquid inside it had been colored purple.

"What I am about to do is pretty simple. Whatever this slime is, I am certain that it used to be some form of liquid before it dried up. I am going to try and reverse it by adding more moisture into it and see what it originally was."

Denin asked, "You can actually do that?"

Barclay's jolly attitude returned for just a brief moment. "A man like me can do anything."

He poured several drops of the purple liquid onto the piece of slime and stood back.

Reverix noticed a change in its condition in a matter of seconds. The small portion of the black slime began to grow a little more syrupy. It no longer had the appearance of thick dry paint.

Barclay rubbed his palms together. "It appears to be working."

His anticipation, however, failed to grow to its fullest potential. The black substance on the grass began to jump up and down in a violent manner. Startled by its sudden movements, Reverix and the other men had to take a few steps back.

Denin blurted, "What's happening here?"

Barclay cleared his throat. "This is where I stopped preparing myself. Any idea on how to stop this thing?"

Not only did the molten fragment jumped in every direction, it also had the strange fortune of making its own faint noise. Reverix didn't know how it happened, but he could hear a low-pitched screech as the black liquid started to act like an object no longer inanimate.

In a frantic fashion, Barclay searched through his wooden chest while his new creation tried to flee from the scene.

Reverix was about to unsheathe his sword. "Don't let it get away!"

Vidko didn't hesitate as he tried to aim the crossbow at the jumping deserter. Barclay, however, had other plans. He wielded a small clay vase and chased after it. It took the most obvious route to leave the woods, mainly the trail that would lead to the bridge.

Barclay yelled at his companion, "Vidko, don't shoot! This is _my_ moment!"

The jumping ooze didn't have a chance to leave this place. Barclay pulled the lid open and brought the upside-down vase straight down on his intended target. He imprisoned it just in time.

Vidko lowered his weapon. Barclay didn't move. He and the other men could hear the shrieking substance striking the inner walls numerous times.

Denin seemed speechless. "Uh…what…what just happened?"

Reverix narrowed his eyes. "Everyone stay away from the corpse! I think we can now understand how dangerous it used to be."

Barclay replied, "Whatever you do, don't blame this on me. All I did was give it more moisture."

"It is now a living thing. How did that happen?"

Barclay looked just as perplexed as everyone else. "This has become a complete mystery to me."

Vidko kept his eyes on the vase. "I don't trust it at all. We cannot let it live if it is vicious enough to smother its prey."

Barclay shook his head. "We must find out what it is first! Perhaps some sort of sorcery is afoot. But there's only one way to find out. I must study it to see if we are correct in grasping at any possibility we can find."

Denin took a few steps back. "Are you crazy? What if it's worse than you think? Before you know it, that thing could grow and eat us up like we're cheese!"

"You have no idea how many vials I have left."

Reverix remarked, "Just make sure you keep it in that vase. We have already seen how dangerous it could be."

* * *

He didn't wait to see how Barclay could keep the jumping slime inside the vase while turning it right-side up. Vidko stayed behind to see if it could actually escape from their presence. In the meantime, Reverix and Denin found Furlock the Gaul not far from the crime scene.

The two didn't waste their time when informing the Gaul on their most recent discovery. Reverix provided the basic details: the mysterious death of a young woman, the slime that came alive, and the possibility of more dead bodies on the Isle of Berk.

Furlock looked behind Reverix to see the others trying to keep the slime concealed with the swift turning of the vase.

"What kind of sorcery is that?"

"They're about to look into it. Is anyone else deceased on this island?"

Furlock replied, "The search is still not over, and from what I've heard, no one has found another body."

Reverix scratched the side of his neck very slowly. "I'd like to think that we won't."

Barclay and Vidko stayed in the woods to learn more of the cause of the lying woman's death, while Denin joined Furlock to see if they could venture deeper into the woods. At this point, Reverix just needed some time to decipher the situation at hand.

He returned to the village. Nothing changed. The same smoke rising above, the same charred remains of several homes, and the same unbearable silence that overstayed its welcome. Only the human imagination could conjure up just a vague image of this cause and effect. Reverix looked on to the horizon to see the devastated Viking ships still floating aimlessly on the water. The torn masts instantly reminded him of his dear old friend. He needed to know how Stoick the Vast and his family managed to escape this fiasco, even they even did at all. Their current health became the only thing Reverix feared for.

He reached for his pocket and pulled out Hiccup's map. He unfolded it to review the top right corner.

 _Land of a Thousand Scars_

With the Vikings' disappearance, Gothi's nervous state, and the dead woman obscured by an unknown force, everything didn't seem to connect just yet. It could have meant nothing, but Hiccup's newly discovered territory could have given clear signals for a new escapade.

His concentration on the map stayed strong. Until he spotted something on the ground. From the corner of his eye, he could see several drops of black liquid that landed on the dirt. Being more attentive to this new discovery provided the bigger picture. And from several feet away, there was a long straight trail of black droplets that made its mark in the village. It started from the same cottage where Zeema the Egyptian took care of Gothi.

Reverix ran immediately inside. He held his breath for a second as soon as he reached the bedroom. Gothi no longer lay on the bed. She and Zeema had disappeared. A quick observation gave him the only answer he needed. The black-colored droplets had originated from her bed. Several of them made their mark on the blanket. He didn't touch the residue, since he had already seen what it could become. The trail continued on the floor. Reverix followed it without hesitation. It led him outside, and on the front porch, the first footprint emerged in the middle of Gothi's tracks.

Fortunately, Zeema had just arrived with a basket in her hand.

Reverix asked, "Where have you been?"

Zeema kept her eyes on the trail of drops in front of her. "I went back to the ship to grab more supplies. It would only take a few minutes. What happened?"

"Gothi is gone, and these are her tracks."

"What do you mean? Is that paint?"

Reverix continued to follow the trail. "No, it's far from it."

The trail led the two of them to further down to the shore. The drops grew more abundant on the grass, while another footprint appeared. Reverix and Zeema moved further away from the cottage and into a more open area near the coast.

Gothi's tracks suddenly formed a new pattern altogether. The droplets stopped when her handprints appeared. Now, a thick line of black gunge took effect right when her hands looked as if it had been dragged across the dirt.

Zeema sounded absolutely anxious. "What kind of beast would drag her out of her bed like this?"

Reverix had only one answer. "There is no beast. I can't find a single track of it."

They reached a cliff alongside the shore. Gothi's tracks ended right at the edge. Reverix and Zeema looked straight down at the water fifty feet below. They could not see the old woman's body on the surface. They could only see a small black puddle which signified her last appearance in the sun.

Zeema gasped. "It can't be."

"She is the cause of her own death. There is no way we can find her again."

"What would drive her to do it? Was she drenched in filthy water that made her sick?"

Reverix shook his head. "It's not water, either. Whatever you do, don't touch it."

He instantly remembered the portraits on the wall, the dead woman in the woods, and the piece of black slime that jumped and shrieked. There were still no answers, only more questions than ever before.

Suddenly, Zeema tapped his shoulder to grab his attention. She pointed at something on the ground. "Look, she left a message."

Reverix looked down. A few feet away from the edge of the cliff, something had been written on the dirt, presumably by Gothi's own hand. It appeared to be a single symbol made out of the same black tint.

Reverix recognized it. He had seen it many times before. It was one word, in a language from the Far East.

It spelled out a name.

 _Temujin_

It reminded Reverix of what drew him to Hiccup's map.

"Come on, Zeema. We must leave. Everyone must return to the ship at once. There is nothing else we can find here."

Zeema, still heartbroken by her patient's ultimate decision, had no choice but to concur with her captain. "Where will we go?"

"There is an island with a thousand scars. That is our new destination."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


	3. Kill It With Water

THREE

KILL IT WITH WATER

When everyone gathered on the shore, Reverix the Viking immediately announced their departure from the Isle of Berk. He ordered them to leave everything alone and return to the ship as fast as possible. He received the only important news from Furlock the Gaul: the gang still didn't find any other bodies (dead or alive) on the island. Gothi and the black-haired woman in the woods had become the only members of the Hooligan tribe to ever be found.

This didn't please Reverix at all. He led his comrades back into the ship and ordered half of them to handle the oars. As they drifted further away from the shore, he examined Hiccup's map once more. Judging by the most basic coordinates, it would take at least a few hours to reach _Land of a Thousand Scars_. If he stayed on course by moving northeast all the way through, he and his crew might reach their destination in the afternoon.

He took no chances. He led his crew away from the Barbaric Archipelago and ventured forth into unfamiliar territory. He took one last look at the Isle of Berk. It would look the same as before: its reputation disrupted by sudden desertion from its inhabitants. The only difference would be that the fog had finally dissipated, and the midday would begin with more human curiosity.

* * *

Fortunately, Denin wasn't one of the pirates who had to move the ship with an oar. He spent his time sitting near the bow of the ship, sharpening his two daggers with a piece of flint. He felt thankful for his uncle teaching him proper self-defense. With whatever happened to his young Viking friends, he would need his weapons more than anything.

Sitting beside him was another young man who had been trained extensively for his current occupation. Havoc the Roman was the same age as Denin, and he had a different weapon in mind for future confrontations. He used his own flint to the tip of his spear. But unlike Denin, the speed of his sharpening had grown faster ever since the start.

Denin asked, "You're bored, aren't you?"

Havoc chuckled. "Wouldn't you feel the same way when you're on an island and there's nothing to steal?"

"Hey, the Hairy Hooligans are more than just easy targets. They are our friends. Remember that."

"They're just complete strangers to me. I don't even know what they look like."

"Well, the chief is tall and tough. That's all you need to know."

"Who is he, anyway? Is he someone that the captain met in prison or something?"

Denin knew that he would describe his uncle's friend to someone who knew nothing of their past. "No, it wasn't like that at all. Reverix and Stoick used to be friends since childhood. They acted like true brothers, at least that's how I saw it. But then, Stoick didn't feel like being a bandit of the sea fit his own version of his future. So he stayed in the Barbaric Archipelago while Reverix and I continued to roam the ocean."

Havoc looked amused as he shook his head. "I can't imagine staying in a place like that when there's so much of the world to discover."

Denin almost laughed. "At least the Archipelago had dragons. Wouldn't you want one as a friend?"

Havoc finished sharpening the tip of his spear. "I'll pass. It sounds like they are a pain to deal with."

"Not anymore."

"Regardless, I still wish we could steal something special from that island."

"Be serious, Havoc. There's something strange going on here, and we have to be prepared for the worst."

"That's the part of my job that I love."

Havoc kept his weapon by his side. His little grin said it all. "Wherever we go, I am ready for anything."

* * *

Reverix stayed silent as he looked straight at ahead at the new path in the Atlantic. So far, there was nothing but ocean in front of him and his crew. It would take at least another couple of hours until the _Land of a Thousand Scars_ would appear on the horizon.

With everything that led to this point, the Viking could only rely on minimal evidence.

Gothi had written only two words before her untimely death.

 _Stolen_ … _Temujin_

It wouldn't take a scientist to make the connection, at least in Reverix's perspective.

Vidko the Russian spent his time guarding the stern of the ship, while Furlock the Gaul spent his time viewing Hiccup's enormous map on deck.

"This _Thousand Scars_ place looks massive. It's the largest island on this map."

Reverix nodded. "And that's where we are heading."

Furlock slid his fingers across his hair. "I noticed something before we left the Isle of Berk. Zeema showed me the exact spot where Gothi had written something on the grass. From the looks of it, it looked like a language from the Far East."

"You are correct. It was written in Mongolian."

"So this Gothi woman had visited Mongolia before?"

"It's not a language that she had grown accustomed to. She must have seen it somewhere else."

"We're going to have to find someone who knows what it is."

"You're looking at him right now."

Furlock raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You never told me you knew how to read Mongolian."

"I don't. But I have seen that one word before. I know what it means."

"Well, what is it?"

" _Temujin_. Gothi wrote the word _Temujin_."

Vidko leaned in to hear everything and gather all the information he needed for future reference.

Furlock asked, "Is _Temujin_ some sort of weapon, or a curse?"

Reverix replied, "No…it is the birth name of Genghis Khan."

Furlock immediately took one step back. "Hold on a minute. Genghis Khan? _The_ Genghis Khan?!"

Reverix could only nod.

"I think it's time we turn this ship around."

"Now is not the time to back away from this investigation."

"So you're saying that one of the most powerful men in the world had something to do with the mass disappearance?"

"It appears to be true."

Vidko kept his solemn expression intact. "What would he want with the Vikings?"

Reverix let out a little sigh. "Perhaps it has something to do with the dragons."

Furlock cleared his throat. "So now, we're truly screwed."

"We can't be sure. We still don't know what happened. We have to find out what's been going on in the past few days."

"Well, all we know is that if the dragons are what he truly wanted, then Genghis Khan is _really_ close to getting what he wants. Hey, I have an idea. Let's just turn around. Let's retire somewhere, maybe in one of those Polynesian islands. We have no business with the Mongols, that's for sure."

"You're not afraid, are you?"

"Well, wouldn't _you_ if you found out that someone like big bad Genghis wants to collect as many dragons as he can?"

Reverix shook his head. "That may not be his true objective. We have to be absolutely certain of what he truly wants."

* * *

Barclay the Celt knew that he had to keep the lid closed, but that didn't stop him from wanting to examine his prey a little more. Denin could see the plump and jovial pirate pressing his ear against the side of the vase, presumably to hear what lurked inside it.

Denin remarked, "I still don't think it's a good idea to bring that along. I mean, you've seen what it did to that woman."

Barclay kept his ear on the vase. "As soon as we find out what it is, then we will see if we can get rid of it for good."

He knocked on the vase three times. Denin didn't know whether to stay in his seat or move to the other side of the ship.

Barclay whispered, "It hasn't been making a noise for quite some time now."

Denin wanted to believe it to be true. "Maybe it's dead."

Barclay knocked again. "Oh, that's what it wants us to believe."

"Please don't tell me that it's smarter than I think."

"It's not as smart as—"

Barclay didn't have a chance to finish his sentence. A loud cracking noise originated from the vase. Once they spotted a small crack on the surface growing larger by the second, Denin and Barclay quickly stepped away.

Denin called out to his uncle, "We have a problem!"

Reverix, Furlock, and Vidko arrived on the bow just in time to see more cracks forming on the vase.

Vidko raised his crossbow. "What did you feed it?"

Barclay blurted out, "I didn't feed it anything!"

Everyone on the ship ceased their routines, including those who moved the oars, and grabbed their weapons. Denin grabbed a torch and lit it on fire.

The vase finally broke apart into several pieces. Bits and pieces flew into the air and struck whoever stood in their way. The little black slime finally broke out of its prison and began to jump around, complete with its low-pitched shriek.

Reverix yelled at his comrades, "Stand back! Don't touch it!"

Barclay, in a frantic fashion, searched through his little wooden chest for a special weapon. The black slime jumped around in all directions.

Denin pushed his torch toward it. "Burn, you little maggot!"

The little black ooze landed right on the railing. Denin swung his torch to push the little creature into the water below. He only partially succeeded, since something went wrong. Once the ooze came into contact with the fire, it immediately burst into flames. It dropped to the floor as nothing but a scorched victim. Its shrieking stopped. It became a small flame that made its mark on the wooden floor. Furlock put out the flame with a bucket of water. The little black ooze was no more. It became a blackened spot on the floor.

The ship grew silent all of a sudden. The pirates looked down to see the little damage that had been done on deck.

Havoc poked the charred remains with his spear. "It's all gone."

Denin scratched his head. "How could it burn so fast?"

Reverix observed the minimal damage on deck. The blackened spot on the wooden floor gave him the only hint.

"It's oil. It has to be."

Havoc appeared confused. "Are you sure? I don't recognize the smell."

Reverix replied, "But I can recognize the texture. And besides, only oil can burn that quickly."

Furlock remarked, "I've never seen black oil jump around like that."

Barclay pointed his finger at the charred spot. "It's sorcery! That's what it is! That would be the only way it can come alive like that."

Havoc didn't believe it, at least not yet. "Oh, this is what we get for bringing along a superstitious fellow like you."

Barclay narrowed his eyes. "Magic is always likely. And don't you forget it."

Denin added, "But we don't know who's responsible for it."

Reverix could only think of one individual who could possibly come up with this neat little trick.

"Everyone resume your positions! And keep a sharp lookout. There may be more witchcraft ahead."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


	4. Land Of A Thousand Scars

FOUR

LAND OF A THOUSAND SCARS

* * *

Rumors began to spread after the incident with the oil. Reverix the Viking once overheard some of the younger pirates believing that he led them to an island filled with either cannibals or bloodthirsty rats. He couldn't decipher how the gossip changed so much, but he already grew so aggravated by such false fabrications.

So far, however, everyone on the ship knew of their next destination. Some demonstrated their curiosity by betting on who would find hidden treasure first. Others tried to hide their skeptic nature by staying silent all the way through. Reverix could see it in their eyes. The mysterious power of the oil provided fuel for their imagination. Fear of the unknown would have been a brilliant way of disobeying the captain and jumping ship. Nevertheless, his crew had no choice but to set sail for the island known as the _Land of a Thousand Scars_.

* * *

The path to the island wasn't perfect, and the fact that a thick layer of fog stopped any chance of viewing such a large piece of land at a long distance. Reverix ordered everyone to stop rowing their oars. The ship didn't move further inland. Reverix moved to the bow of the ship to observe the minimal surroundings. All he could see in front of him was the thick fog. There would be no way to tell if their next destination would be right behind the thick sheet of moisture. With a long sigh, Reverix decided to take the chance.

He turned around to address his crew, which waited patiently for a potential announcement.

He cleared his throat while keeping a good look at the other swashbucklers and said, "Everyone keep your weapons by your side. There is an island on the other side of the fog. There, it is possible that we will be dealing with a Mongol horde."

The reaction from his crew was what he expected. Some whispered to each other with frightened looks on their faces. The older pirates either kept a solemn expression (just like Vidko the Russian) or appeared amused at such a straightforward adventure.

Reverix continued on, "Yes, it's true. There may be Mongols in the _Land of a Thousand Scars_ , so we have to be incredibly cautious when we set foot on the shore. They won't be the only ones on the island, however. There may be Vikings who are in grave danger. We must make sure that they are kept unharmed."

Havoc the Roman kept his spear close by his side. "So now we're stuck with a rescue mission?"

Reverix nodded. "Stoick the Vast is my friend, and his family is important to him. They must return home safely."

One of the pirates shook his head in amusement. At the age of fifty-three, Striker the Icelander was tall and muscular, with a thick beard and long blond hair (which started to grow a little white recently). He had seen more combat and more death than most of the other crew members. At this point in his life, he no longer felt afraid of brand new enemies that he had to face.

Striker tapped his fingers on the railing as he let out his infamous amused chuckle. "I knew it. I knew it. You're about to send us to our deaths. I knew you'd be going off the deep end, but I didn't think it would happen today. Well, it's been nice knowing you all."

Reverix kept his composure. "Don't lose your mind, Striker. We don't know if it is a horde. There could be only a dozen Mongols, maybe two. But we have to see what's on this island first."

Striker's smile signified his careless perspective. "Yeah, before you know it, we'll be ambushed and sliced up. Genghis Khan will have our heads on pikes and use our intestines as dog food."

He shrugged his shoulders. "But whatever. I've had a good life so far. It would have been nice if I retired in France, though. I hear they like to serve frog legs there."

Reverix sighed. "Shut up, will you? We're just doing a little exploration."

Zeema the Egyptian raised her hand. "Are we truly in danger of confronting a Mongol horde?"

Reverix replied, "Yes, which is why we must be prepared for battle. Don't be afraid. Remember who we are. Remember what we are capable of. We can be just as ferocious as they are."

Havoc smiled. "Now that's what I'm talking about. I'm already ready to kick some ass."

And with that, Reverix ordered his crew to keep oaring and move forward into the fog. Everyone else readied themselves by making sure that their weapons had been sharpened.

In the meantime, Furlock the Gaul wielded his mace, complete with sharp spikes all over the iron sphere. He asked Reverix, "What about the oil? Do you think we will find more of it on the island?"

Reverix kept his eyes on the fog. "If we do…then we better bring a torch."

* * *

As soon as they entered the fog, they could no longer see the sun. Even at midday, the fog had grown much too thick. Striker the Icelander had been chosen as the lookout on the bow of the ship. He would signal the others if a rock or another ship would stand in their way.

Denin the Captain's Nephew took a seat at the stern with his friends. He could do nothing but wait until they set foot on the _Land of a Thousand Scars_. He placed his two daggers in their scabbards, and watched as Kinesh the Indian began to sharpen his throwing knives with his own piece of stone. The nineteen-year-old pirate did it slowly. He kept a close eye on both the blades and the sharpening stone. Denin could tell that Kinesh took slow deep breaths as he sharpened his knives. No one would dare distract the young Indian from his silently fierce concentration. They knew how maniacal he could be sometimes.

Denin just waited for the ship to exit the fog and make it to the island that he had never seen nor heard of before.

The nineteen-year-old Viking noticed one of his older companions gazing at the fog with watchful eyes. Vidko the Russian kept his crossbow close as he remained vigilant.

He whispered to Denin, "Do you hear that?"

Denin expected to hear a distant scream or maybe a seagull. "…I can't hear anything."

Vidko didn't smile, nor did he raise the volume of his voice. "Strange, isn't it? It sounds like there's nothing out here but the oars that make splashes in the water."

Denin felt a little puzzled. "So is that a good or bad thing?"

Someone beside the two of them gave an answer. "Don't mind Vidko, my dear boy. He's just trying to find a reason to turn around and run away."

Denin could see that Anton the Bulgarian sat with his legs crossed. He held a smoking pipe in one hand, and a book in the other. This would become a classic trait for this charismatic forty-three-year-old bookworm. Anton had long black hair and maintained a steady diet, which would be how he was able to stay slim just like Vidko, Denin, and others. His debonair appearance was certainly different from the other pirates on the ship. He always wore a stylish coat colored black and red. He looked and acted as if he belonged in a university rather than a pirate ship.

Anton took a slow puff from his pipe in a calm and composed manner. "It's not his fault, however. His parents shouldn't have told him that bedtime story a long time ago."

Vidko no longer kept his voice to a whisper, though his husky voice didn't provide any big changes. "I'm no longer a little boy. I already fought against my superstitions. I'm ready and willing to enter this island without any childhood distress."

Denin asked, "What are you guys talking about? Do you know something about this _Thousand Scars_ place?"

Anton let out a soft chuckle and said with his smooth baritone voice, "If you lived in the exact same place as we did as a child, you would have known the exact same descriptions for this place."

"So you two have heard about this island?"

It was now Vidko's turn to reply, "It's an old folk tale. Every child in Novgorod would have heard about it."

Anton added, "The Mongolians would have heard of it, too."

Denin's curiosity experienced a significant increase. "So the _Land of a Thousand Scars_ is something that both the Slavs and the Mongols have in common."

"Not exactly." Anton brushed away a few strands of hair from his face. "You see, the _Land of a Thousand Scars_ is an old Mongolian myth. It is believed to have been a very sacred place, where the most proficient warriors of the land are given a magical elixir. This, in turn, gives them extraordinary powers. It makes them stronger, smarter, and grants them everlasting life. But it all comes at a price. Whoever drinks the elixir are destined to lose their freedom. They must become the warriors of their emperor. Their lives are in the emperor's hands. _He_ controls their fate and no one else. And I think we can all agree. If this is true, then Genghis Khan has lost touch with reality. No one has ever discovered the _Land of a Thousand Scars_.

If he believes that he has truly found this mythological place, then let's hope they send him in an asylum."

Denin remarked, "The myth doesn't sound too harsh. I'm guessing the Slavic version tells the same thing."

Vidko narrowed his eyes. "That's where you're wrong."

Denin cleared his throat. "So…it's worse?"

Anton the Bulgarian took another slow whiff from his pipe. "The folk tale from my home country has nothing to do with warriors…but with prisoners."

"I already hate where this is going."

Again, Anton let out a soft chuckle. "The Slavs call this place the _Land of a Thousand Scars_ because of its striking resemblance of scars on human skin, of course. Prisoners are sent to this island to be tortured. But the wardens don't use whips or nails. Instead, they use fire. Yes, there is a magic flame that can enter through your mouth and burn you on the inside. Once they are forced to swallow it, the fire invades the inside of their bodies. And very slowly, it feels like it is abolishing their organs one by one. The worst thing about that is the prisoners stay alive when it happens. The pain is unbearable, and they wish to end their own lives because of it. The pain lasts for about a month…or maybe ten years or so. Regardless, this folk tale was used to scare children from being mischievous little creatures. Thank goodness Vidko and I didn't take the bait."

"So on the one hand, you have an elixir. And on the other hand, you have fire."

"Yes…Same name, but different consequences. You decide which one is the real winner."

Denin scratched the back of his head. He whispered to himself, "…There is no winner…"

* * *

He was about to ask a question to Anton, until Vidko slowly turned his head, presumably to see something in the water. Denin perceived it as standard curiosity. But as soon as he caught Anton doing the same thing, Denin placed his hand on one of his daggers.

"What is it?"

Vidko slowly whispered, "I can hear it."

Anton closed his book and uncrossed his legs. "It's coming from the left side."

In a composed fashion, he grabbed his scythe that was leaning against the wall. His face had changed from proudly intellectual to downright suspicious.

Denin tried to detect the unusual sound that caught the two Slavs' attention. He still couldn't see anything in the fog.

A few other crew members seemed to have heard the same noise. Zeema the Egyptian began to look in the same direction as the other two men. A concerned expression on her face had replaced her previous one.

And then, Denin may have finally caught it in his ear. He paid close attention to whatever lurked in the fog. He could hear a distant, yet heavy, sweeping noise. It followed a slow rhythm: the noise stopped and then came back again after just two seconds of silence.

And it grew louder. Denin placed both hands on his dagger handles.

Vidko whispered, "It sounds like wings flapping."

Denin took a slow deep breath. Now that the sweeping sound had grown to a more discernible volume, it did sound like a large bird flapping its wings.

Or rather, a dragon flapping its wings.

Striker the Icelander called out to Reverix. "Hey, do you hear that?"

Before the captain could even say anything, something happened so quickly that none of the pirates had enough time to react.

Something large and ominous swept past the ship from above. On its way back into the fog, it tore through the ship's mast and left it alone with its brand new impairment.

Everyone looked up to see the ship's mast slashed beyond repair.

Striker shouted, "We're under attack!"

Reverix yelled at his crew to keep rowing for the shore. Denin, Havoc, Anton, and Zeema were ready to use their bows and arrows against a fast-moving enemy. Vidko wielded his own crossbow and waited for another strike.

Reverix tried to ignore the torn mast and kept his eyes in front, despite the fog still not looking to dissolve itself anytime soon.

The large and ominous creature returned for another assault. Once more, it moved much too quickly for the pirates to aim and fire their weapons.

Denin received a good look at the color. The flying creature had red skin and had only wings instead of arms.

A dragon.

And it returned for its third attack. It slammed its tail against the bow of the ship. Pieces of wood flew all over the place. Two pirates had to jump away from the direct collision.

Reverix held his sword tight in his hand. "Shoot to kill!"

This time, the red-colored dragon flew low and hit the right side of the hull. Most of the pirates almost lost their footing. It forced the entire ship to change direction. It swerved heavily to the left. Right in the direction of a large rock standing alone on the water.

Reverix yelled, "Starboard! Starboard!"

Those who moved the oars knew what to do. They started to move the ship to the right to avoid colliding with the rock.

They barely made it. Reverix could hear the tip of the rock scratching against the hull.

Vidko immediately raised his crossbow. "It's here again!"

He remained collected as he opened fire on the dragon that let out a loud and screeching roar. Denin, Havoc, Anton, and Zeema released their arrows, hoping to at least hit the dragon in the legs or the tail. Only one pierced through its scales and it did little to distract it from its primary objective. It disappeared into the fog again.

Vidko reloaded his crossbow with unbelievable patience. "It's not going to stop harassing us."

Zeema called out to Reverix, "Do we turn back?!"

Reverix refused to give up. "Give the dragon all you've got! Shoot it down!"

The dragon emerged from the fog and sunk its claws into the mast. And now everyone had a good look at their enormous enemy.

Denin had a good clean shot. He raised his bow and arrow and aimed for the dragon's eye. But he stopped. A strange feeling developed from within when he received a closer look at the dragon that continued to tear the mast apart.

The Captain's Nephew almost gasped. He had seen this dragon before. It happened to have a home on the Isle of Berk.

"Wait a minute…Hookfang! It's Hookfang!"

The other pirates didn't pay any attention to his indirect response. They just wanted to save themselves by keeping the red-colored dragon from intending any harm. Vidko, Anton, Havoc, and Zeema released their arrows, but Hookfang crawled down and onto the deck. It swung its head against Havoc and Zeema, both of whom fell to the floor. Anton raised his scythe to strike, but Hookfang was too quick for him as it pushed him down with its wing.

It had its glowing yellow eyes on Denin, who tried to knock some sense into it.

"Hookfang, it's me! Denin, Hiccup's friend! Don't you remember me?!"

Apparently, it didn't. He flew right past him and almost hit him in the head. He had to swoop down on the floor to avoid unconsciousness.

Furlock swung his mace and hit the dragon on the tail. The damage was minimal, and Hookfang jumped up and flew away into the fog once again.

Striker shouted, "Another rock!"

The pirates had to turn left to avoid another collision with a boulder standing still on the water. This had become a little harder than the previous evasion from disaster. The hull scrapped against the boulder, and this time, it punctured through the wood and water started to spill on the deck.

Reverix demanded that the damage be repaired at once. Despite the chaos ensuing on deck, two pirates tried to cover up the hole with another piece of wood.

Reverix had enough. He set his sword aside and picked up an axe. It wasn't for battle, but rather for chopping up wood or butchering a dead animal for dinner. The captain waited for the dragon to strike again. Its loud and deafening roar came from behind. Reverix waited for the right moment to throw his axe. He took a deep breath.

He could see a shadow in the midst of thick moisture before it culminated into its original menacing form. Reverix needed to concentrate. This would be the most rational way to deal with a flying enemy. Reverix raised the axe and just as the dragon was about to strike the ship for the umpteenth time, the Viking flung his weapon right at it. The axe spun in the air before it reached its target. The dragon stopped dead at its tracks. It let out a shriek. It realized that it had an axe stuck in its torso. In a frantic fashion, it flew away. Its shadowy figure vanished in the fog. Reverix could only hope that it would never come back.

Havoc lowered his bow and arrow. "We didn't do anything to it. What the hell does it have against us?"

Kinesh the Indian looked absolutely dumbfounded, until he replied, "Maybe we're messing with its serenity. Maybe we should learn a thing or two about meditation."

And that was when Kinesh let out his infamous cackle. There was a reason why people on this ship believed the young man to be a little crazy in the head.

Striker brought everyone back to reality by shouting, "We're going to crash!"

This would be the third time that the ship found itself sailing right into a boulder. But this time, the pirates would have no time to avoid the direct impact. The ship crashed right into the rock. A majority of the pirates lost their footing. Reverix ordered everyone to continue with their duties, despite the unfortunate events.

Furlock pointed at something in the distance. "Reverix, we found the shore!"

Reverix looked to see a rocky coastline emerging from the fog. It looked to have been at least fifty feet away.

"Everyone keep rowing until we reach the shore!"

Despite more and more water flooding the deck, the pirates managed to reach the rocky shoreline. The ship crashed right into the small rocks below. But nobody left the ship just yet. They had to make sure that they would be left alone. They looked everywhere to see if the red-colored dragon would make a hasty return. They couldn't hear anything. They could only hear the ocean waves for now.

Vidko whispered to Reverix, "It looks like the dragon will stay in pain."

Reverix felt proud of himself for fending off a beast of that size. "We can only hope it realizes who it's up against."

Then he called to his crew, "Everybody off the ship! Zeema, check for injuries. Vidko, stay on guard."

* * *

Reverix would be the last pirate to exit the deck to make sure every single one of his crew members would not be left behind. Everyone gathered around on the rocky shore.

Reverix tried to see the island up close, but the fog did an excellent job in obscuring the panoramic view. No mountains, no trees, no buildings, just a thick blanket of clouds standing in the way. He received only a partial view of the coastline. Nevertheless, they must have set foot on their primary destination. This could very well have been the _Land of a Thousand Scars_.

Barclay the Celt pointed at something on the ship. "Captain, look at the damage."

Reverix, including everyone else, had set their eyes on what looked to have been substantial damage. A large portion of the hull had been cracked open owing to the large rocks on the shore. That, along with the shredded mast, made the ship look like it was ready to be demolished after years and years in the ocean.

Striker the Icelander shrugged his shoulders in a very amusing way. "Well, this is it. We're gonna die. Thank you for sending us here for no good reason whatsoever. If you need me, I'll be in the forest, hopefully being eaten by ants."

Fortunately, Reverix had known Striker for very long to know what he meant. "We're not done yet. This ship can be easily fixed. We will do it later."

Anton the Bulgarian asked, "Will we be on our way forward?"

Reverix nodded. "Yes, but first, we must collect the most basic supplies for our journey. Everyone grab everything that you need."

Vidko and Striker had been chosen as lookouts while the rest of the crew went back on the ship and grabbed their supplies. Reverix stepped aside on the rocky shore and watched as his crew searched through their belongings on deck.

His nephew tapped him on the shoulder. "I've got some interesting news."

"What is it?"

Denin looked around, presumably to see if any other dragons would be nearby in the fog. "The dragon that attacked us…I think I recognize him."

"From where?"

"From the Isle of Berk. It was Hookfang."

That certainly caught Reverix's attention. "Hookfang…Snotlout's dragon?"

"Yeah…I don't get it. It's like he couldn't remember the two of us."

Reverix slowly rubbed his chin. "What worries me more is that there might be other dragons who won't remember us."

"If that's true, then how would they lose their memory? Witchcraft?"

Reverix still couldn't see anything else in the thick fog in front of him. He didn't answer Denin's question and instead waited for everyone else to finish their tasks.

Everyone made sure they kept their weapons close by their side.

Reverix pointed his sword at a random direction forward. "We leave our ship behind for now. Follow me."

He led his crew further inland. He didn't know what he would find once the fog could properly dissolve in the afternoon. But when it did, he hoped it wouldn't be as terrible as he currently imagined.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


	5. Hiccup's Handwriting

FIVE

HICCUP'S HANDWRITING

* * *

The pirates made their way up a rocky hillside, a perfect diagonal surface instead of a steeper incline. So far, the only tree they could find was a lone pine standing on the shore. It had no leaves, just naked branches from top to bottom.

But they did find something else, and it happened to be much taller than a tree. Just a few minutes after leaving the shore and walking up a hill, the pirates stumbled across something in the midst of the thick fog. In an open and flat area, a tall and wide column had been built with stone. Reverix the Viking looked up to see that the cylinder-shaped tower appeared to be at least one hundred feet high. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be tall enough to escape the fog, so they had no chance of receiving a panoramic view of the island.

The tower did catch Havoc the Roman's attention. The young man stepped closer to his captain. "I've seen this before."

Reverix asked, "Where?"

To which Havoc replied, "My home. This is the same kind of watchtower that people used back in Rome in the old days."

"Are you sure of this?"

Anton the Bulgarian stepped in to answer that. "Havoc is correct, sir. This is authentic Roman architecture. Notice the articulate details on the tower."

Havoc nodded. "Yeah, but it's gotta be at least a few hundred years old now."

He pointed at the tower. "I mean, look at it. The wall is pretty beat up, and the color looks like it already rusted up."

Reverix finally realized it. "This island…it was inhabited by the Romans for a few hundred years?"

Havoc smiled. "Is sure looks like it. Maybe I'll find a distant relative here somewhere."

Denin the Captain's Nephew asked, "But what the hell are they doing _here_?"

Reverix had another question in mind for Havoc. "You say that this is a watchtower, is that correct?"

The young Roman replied, "Absolutely. Nobody would dare enter this island when the soldiers on the watchtower take their shots. The entire coastline of this island has to be inundated with these. We don't mess around."

Denin scratched his head. "It kinda makes you wonder where these Romans are now."

Without hesitation, Reverix ordered Striker the Icelander and Vidko the Russian to investigate the interior of the watchtower. As soon as they stepped inside the front entrance, Havoc took another look at the top of the tower. There seemed to be something different.

"That's weird. There are crossbows up there, but they're not pointing at the ocean."

Denin pointed at something in the distance. "Hey, I can see a few catapults built over there. But look, they're facing the opposite direction."

Everyone noticed that the catapults weren't pointing at the shore, but instead inland.

Furlock the Gaul must have understood. "It looks like…they tried to keep something from _leaving_ this island."

When Vidko and Striker returned from their investigation, the Icelander informed Reverix of the supplies left behind at the top. Numerous containers filled with coal remained untouched. Striker concluded that the Romans may have used the crossbows to throw burning coals at their enemies.

Reverix could only hope that the fog would dissipate soon. "They attack their enemies with fire. We have to see who they are sooner or later."

Striker sighed. "You should let me write my will."

* * *

They continued on, but the situation still didn't improve. The pirates could smell something in the air. It smelled like meat cooked well done.

But it didn't turn out to be edible meat.

The pirates walked closer to what looked like a genuine crime scene. In the midst of a wide open space (owing to the complete lack of trees in the area), they found something on the dirt floor. Five human bodies lying on the floor had been burned to a crisp. Black and charred, it would be impossible for anyone to recognize them at all. The cadavers, however, lay on their backs with their arms outstretched. That gave a few clues to what led to their demise.

Anton was the first one to notice it. "They must have tried to flee from something and headed straight for the shore."

Zeema the Egyptian looked in all directions. "I can only think of dragons at this moment."

Anton rubbed his chin. "I don't think dragons are responsible for their deaths. The bodies are blackened, but the ground is not. The dirt below looks untouched by fire."

Vidko added, "It's as though they set themselves on fire."

Denin almost shivered. "I just hope these people aren't Vikings."

Barclay the Celt opened his little wooden chest and popped open one of his glass vials. He crouched down alongside a cadaver and slowly waved the vial across it. It didn't take long for the smoke to rise from the green chemical from within the glass.

Barclay popped the cork back in. "These people have been dead since no later than last night."

Zeema observed the dirt floor. "I don't see any torches around. They must have been ambushed in the dark."

Denin had a suggestion. "Maybe someone doused them in oil before they died."

Reverix looked away. "That's a good possibility."

Even if he kept his interest in the dead burnt bodies strong, Reverix needed to see more of what lay ahead. He ordered his crew to move along.

"There are footprints in the dirt. Let's see where these people fled from."

* * *

It would only take a few minutes until they finally found the next hint of permanent civilization. The footprints led them to an actual village. Over a dozen homes made of stone lay scattered in an open area. All of them remained untouched by diverse artillery. The pirates couldn't spot a single civilian roaming around. A basic parallel between this and the Isle of Berk began to take effect.

Reverix the Viking called out, "Hello! Is anyone alive out here?!"

It was only followed by complete silence. An entire community could only be represented by the five scorched corpses lying on the ground.

Just several meters away from the village, a collection of dead trees could be seen through the fog. If the fog did disappear, then it would be revealed as a small fraction of an endless forest. But for now, the pirates could only view it as a smaller lifeless assembly.

Soon, the pirates investigated every house in the village. Reverix and Anton would be responsible for the observation in the largest abode, which would most likely be inhabited by the chief of the village. Once inside, they found nothing out of the ordinary. Everything seemed untouched by sworn enemies. One of the smaller rooms in the house encompassed rows upon rows of scrolls and flat pieces of paper stacked neatly on two desks. Anton set aside his scythe and decided to choose anything that provided vital information.

After inspecting the other rooms, Reverix checked on his Hungarian friend to see if anything came up from within the scrolls. Anton approached it with a leisurely pace. He remained calm, patience and charisma overtaking manufactured boredom.

The Viking asked, "Will we be wasting time with these documents?"

Anton pointed at something on the scroll he held. "Whoever wrote this keeps calling this place _Seere_. It must be the island's real name."

"So Hiccup was wrong."

Anton just shook his head and said, "He must not have known the island's real name just yet."

"It does make you wonder why he chose a name like _Land of a Thousand Scars_."

"He must have had a very good reason to do so."

Fearing the unimaginable, Reverix looked down at the desk. "Do you think you can find anything else that's interesting in here?"

Anton gave a little smile. "The only thing I'll need is my pipe, and I'll do all the work myself."

* * *

On the other side of the village, the younger pirates paid attention to something else. Emilia the Spaniard had followed Denin close ever since they first set foot in this region. Just because she was beautiful and never gave up her slim physique didn't mean that she didn't feel the least bit frightened at discovering this terrifying territory. Still, she knew how to defend herself. She held a dagger in one hand and a boomerang (shaped like a throwing star) in the other.

They didn't find any inhabitants, but they did find something strange on the outside walls. Several gallons of black liquid had been smeared on the walls of a house. Denin had to put away one of his daggers and touch the black liquid with his finger. It felt thick and very gooey. He took a sniff of it.

He said to Emilia, "It smells like the same oil that Barclay kept in his vase."

The nineteen-year-old Spaniard sounded confused when she asked, "Are you sure? It doesn't smell like the kind of oil that we normally use."

Unfortunately, Denin didn't have the definitive answer. "Maybe it's a special kind of oil."

"So maybe that's how they burned the poor souls. They doused them with this stuff and set them on fire."

The two of them found more of the black oil smeared on another stone house. But this time, a more significant discovery had been found. Whoever came in contact with the black oil had written something big on the wall, using nothing but a hand to slide across the vertical surface.

Neither Denin nor Emilia could recognize it. It looked to be a single word.

It took the two of them several seconds to try and decipher it without any prior knowledge. Havoc the Roman and Kinesh the Indian joined them to see what they stared at for quite some time.

Havoc pointed at the word on the wall. "What the hell is that?"

Emilia replied, "We can't figure it out, either."

Kinesh kept his eyes on it and didn't say a word. He stood still, looking rather mesmerized at such a strange misdemeanor.

Havoc leaned on his spear. "Maybe it's Chinese."

Emilia had a different suggestion. "Maybe it's some kind of Arabic word."

But Denin had only one thing in mind. "It must be Mongolian."

Kinesh exhaled slowly and deeply.

Emilia raised her eyebrows. "So it's true? We're dealing with a Mongol horde?"

Denin sighed. "Reverix was right."

Kinesh suddenly whispered, "Thank goodness we're here. We get to see it all."

And then, he chuckled ever so lightly.

Denin ignored the young Indian's most famous characteristic and looked around in the midst of the never-ending fog.

"From what we've gathered here, there must be tons of black oil on this island. I expect to see a few wells around here."

Havoc snorted. "We could bring a few gallons of it back to the ship."

Denin ignored the remark, since he set his eyes on something on the dirt floor. Whoever wrote the Mongolian word on the wall left behind a thin trail of black oil that stretched toward another stone house.

"Come on, guys. I think we got something here."

The four young pirates followed the dark-colored track and reached the other house. This time, the stranger wrote one capitalized English letter with the same black oil.

 _H_

Havoc scratched his head. "What starts with _H_?"

Emilia started giving out a few words in random order. "Help? Hell? Hello?"

Kinesh raised a finger. "How about Hydrodynamics?"

Emilia looked at him with mild bewilderment.

Denin couldn't look away at the letter H written on the wall. He could only think of one word that started with H.

Hiccup.

Denin looked and saw the black trail extending to a dead pine tree standing alone on the outskirts of the village. He noticed a piece of red cloth hanging from one of the lower branches.

Denin put away his dagger and ran for the tree. The other three followed from behind.

Emilia asked, "What's up there?"

Denin could see more remnants of oil stuck on the bark. "That's for me to find out."

He began to climb up the tree. Havoc, Emilia, and Kinesh had to wait and see what he could find. Denin had to make sure he didn't touch any of the oil. He chose the other side of the tree that wasn't drenched with oil. When he reached the branch, he looked to see what the red cloth could be. He had to reach out far with his hand.

Reverix and Furlock had joined the other pirates who looked up to see what caught Denin's attention. As soon as he made it back to the ground, the young Viking showed what he had found. The red cloth had been used as a bookmark for a large hardcover tome. Denin opened the first page to see what he been written.

"It looks like a journal."

Havoc asked, "How can you tell?"

"Whoever wrote this is describing something about his dragons."

He skimmed through the first page in order to find any important element in a short time. One sentence did it all. The handwriting for the words _Land of a Thousand Scars_ looked familiar. Denin could have sworn that he had seen it before.

He immediately looked up at his uncle. "Can I look at the map?"

Reverix brought out Hiccup's map from his pocket and laid it out on the floor. Denin unfolded everything and concentrated on the far left corner. He gazed at the same four words on the map, and then on the first page of the open book.

They were written in the same way.

"Look at this. It's Hiccup's handwriting. This is his book."

Reverix folded the map and put it back in his pocket. "Why would he put it up on that tree?"

Denin almost shivered. "Maybe it has something to do with the black oil."

Reverix and Furlock looked up at the tree, and then at the wall with the letter H.

Denin added, "I think he wanted us to find this book. He left behind a few obvious clues. The oil is one of them."

Furlock remarked, "That book must be pretty special if he tried to hide it in the first place."

Denin couldn't stop staring at the book in his hands. "What I don't understand is why he wrote the first word. He doesn't even speak Mongolian."

Reverix raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

Denin pointed at the direction of what he spoke of. "He wrote a Mongolian word on the wall. Check it out."

He led Reverix and Furlock to the first wall that Hiccup had written on. He pointed at the word that he couldn't understand.

"I wish I knew what it meant."

Reverix narrowed his eyes. "I know what it is."

"You do?"

Reverix exhaled heavily through his nose. " _Temujin_."

Denin had to take one step back. "So, uh…"

Reverix cracked his knuckles. "He is here on this island."

* * *

Emilia pointed up at the sky. "Look! The fog's clearing up."

She was correct. The fog had finally dissipated, revealing a darker sky. The sun had already begun its descent into its usual western horizon. On one side of the village stood a forest filled with dead trees, and on another stood the watchtower from a quarter of a mile away.

Reverix knew that the sunset meant darker times for him and his crew. He called out for Striker and Barclay. When they met up with him, the captain ordered them to bring over a dozen torches for the group. With a casual nod, Striker and Barclay exited the village and made their temporary return to the ship.

Meanwhile, Reverix had another thing in mind. He saw Denin looking down at the first page of Hiccup's journal. The look of concern on his face gave a clear signal of his current mood.

Reverix told him, "I want you to find the most important details in that book."

Denin nodded. "Understood."

The young man left the scene with Hiccup's book still in his grip.

Anton the Bulgarian arrived with his scythe in his hand and a smoking pipe between his lips.

Reverix asked, "So what did you find?"

Anton exhaled smoke from his mouth very slowly. "I have found an official map of this island. You might want to take a look."

He handed his captain the scroll he had placed in his coat pocket. The piece of paper contained a meticulously drawn map of _Seere_. It certainly was a massive piece of land. It included mountains, dead forests, caverns, and a few stone temples. Reverix looked to see that this village was located on the southernmost tip of the island. He and his crew would have to move further north, where there would be a dead forest named _The Silent Forest_.

Reverix had an idea. "Anton, follow me. We must see everything on top of the watchtower."

As soon as they returned to the watchtower, they looked from left to right. Havoc was correct. An entire row of watchtower had been lined right on the shore. If truth be told, then the entire shoreline of this island would be filled with watchtowers, each standing a hundred feet tall.

Once inside, Reverix and Anton ran up the spiral staircase and reached the top. What they could see turned out to be what they expected. Further inland lay numerous mountains and steep cliffs while the fog continued to dissolve all around the bottom. _The Silent Forest_ appeared to be quite enormous, which stretched as far as the nearest mountainside. So far, however, the two men couldn't spot a single dragon flying in the sky.

Reverix now knew what lay ahead of him and his crew. "We will make our way further inland. Perhaps we can find something in one of the mountains."

Anton didn't flinch as he inhaled more smoke from his pipe. "We should eat and rest first."

"There's no time. Something sinister is happening in this island. We are so close to the truth. No time should be wasted."

When the two of them returned downstairs and exited the watchtower, they found Striker and Barclay waiting for them at the front entrance. Reverix noticed that they didn't bring any torches with them at all. He also noticed a look of fright on Barclay's face.

"What is it?"

The Celt pointed downhill. "There's something you should see."

* * *

Denin chose a safe location in the village. He sat on the front porch of one of the stone houses. He didn't need his weapons. He just needed to pay attention to what Hiccup wrote in his journal. He started with the first page. There was nothing important: just a brief summary of his dragon Toothless and the other Vikings. Denin skipped over to the sixth page, and read the paragraph that deal with Hiccup's parents. Based on the writing itself, Hiccup gave off a positive vibe when describing both Stoick and Valka.

At this point, Denin could only envy his distant friend. Hiccup was lucky to have both his father and mother around. The last time that Denin had seen his own parents was six years ago, when they died by enemy hands. It tore him apart, but fortunately, his uncle Reverix provided some excellent instructions for his adolescence and helped him survive the real world. He felt grateful to have such a valiant man by his side.

He skipped over to the middle of the book, and read what turned out to be a much more important narrative. Hiccup began to describe an enormous island that was filled with dead forests and jagged mountains. He also mentioned the same watchtowers that had been lined up on the shores. The entire account took up two full pages. And it stopped right at the bottom, with a few ink stains left behind on paper.

Denin turned the page again, and his fears made an unwelcome return to his current mentality.

Hiccup usually had clean handwriting, and the words he wrote on paper appeared proper in terms of size and appearance.

But not this time.

He wrote in larger letters, and his handwriting had grown less meticulous than before. More and more ink stains had been imprinted on the paper.

Two entire sentences took up one whole page.

" _They fed me their poison. I can't escape it_."

Denin had to turn the page to read what was next. Hiccup wrote two more sentences, both with the same size and the same unusual handwriting.

" _I'm starting to change…My blood is no longer mine_."

Denin took quicker breaths. He could feel goosebumps forming on his skin. He began to dread what he would read next.

The next six pages gave off the same impression of Hiccup's tortured state.

" _It wants me to surrender…It's hurting me._ "

" _My father is calling for me…I don't want him to see me like this_."

" _I feel so strange_ … _It's eating me from within_."

For the first time, Denin doubted if he could turn to the next page. His hands started to shake ever so slightly. But he had to continue. He needed to see what happened to his friend.

When he turned the page, the paper was left blank. In fact, the next few pages remained untouched by either ink or lead. Denin skipped over to the last page, and found Hiccup's last four words written in the most unnerving handwriting possible:

 _SAVE ME FROM MYSELF_

It didn't look like it was written with a pen, but with a single finger sliding across the thin surface. And the aroma from the written words, accompanied by the numerous black droplets scattered all over, gave away its true identity.

Black oil.

* * *

At first, Reverix didn't think much of the dead pine tree on the shore. It looked quite immobile to say the least. But when Barclay and Striker led him and Anton to it, the dead tree had undergone a few changes. The branches and bark stayed the same. But now, it received several invitations from inanimate objects.

Human-sized wooden stick figures had been hung on the branches with pieces of rope. But that was not what caught Reverix's eye. One of the stick figures had been dressed with clothes that belonged to a certain one-legged Viking.

Reverix couldn't escape the image now embedded in his thoughts. Someone had dressed the stick figure with Hiccup Haddock's attire. Reverix could recognize the body armor and the green pants. The left boot remained absent. Hiccup's head had been replaced with a wooden faceless one. The rope was tied around the neck, and the entire figure was hung from a branch.

But Hiccup's attire didn't turn out to be the only one that Reverix recognized. Another one had been hung from a bough not far from Hiccup's. Reverix could instantly identify the red shirt and spiky skirt. Astrid's body had been substituted with another wooden stick figure, its neck wrapped tight with a noose just like Hiccup.

In fact, every one of them had nooses around their necks. Including the clothes worn by Ruffnut and Tuffnut. Both wooden figures hung right alongside each other.

The last two Viking garbs looked familiar as well. He could only think of one person on the Isle of Berk who wore a large fur top. Fishlegs.

The situation couldn't be avoided. The wardrobes for Hiccup, Astrid, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Snotlout, and Fishlegs were left hanging from the lone pine tree. The breeze from the ocean forced the wooden stick figures to swing left and right. Reverix could only hear the ropes stretching from such slow and gentle motions.

But it didn't stop there. An axe was also hung on a branch with a rope. Reverix looked closer and realized that he had used the axe before. It was the same one that he used to injure Hookfang not long ago.

Even if he wielded a large iron hammer produced for battle, Barclay couldn't help but look upset at the fate of his captain's young friends. "What do you suppose could have done this?"

Reverix already knew the answer. "The Mongols…they know we're here. This is a warning. They want us to leave."

Striker laid a hand on Reverix's shoulder. "I'm really sorry for your loss."

Reverix refused to be emotionally defeated. "They're still alive. I just know it."

Anton whispered, "If they are…will they be the same?"

Reverix exhaled slowly through his nostrils. "I can only pray that they will."

All of a sudden, Anton spotted something from behind Reverix. "Look at that."

Reverix quickly turned around and set his eyes on the same exact spot.

An old man stood motionless on the hillside. Judging by his clothes and his hat, Reverix didn't have to spend much time to identify the old man's home country.

The Mongolian elder stood alone with nothing but a torch in his hand. He would appear to be harmless, but Reverix and his men didn't take any chances. They raised their weapons and waited for the old man to give a response. But he just stood there, as if frozen. His blank stare didn't give Reverix an opportunity to categorize his current condition.

"Who are you?"

The old Mongolian spoke in an old and hoarse tone. "You are not supposed to be there."

Reverix and the others kept their weapons raised in case of a sudden attack. The captain pointed at the dead tree. "Did your friends do this?"

"I have no friends on this island."

"What have you done to these people?"

The old Mongolian's blank stare didn't help the situation at all. "You have only one choice. Leave this island and never come back. If you are looking for treasure, then you are wasting your time."

"We're not looking for treasure. We're looking for Vikings. We have friends on this island."

"I have seen them. They are bold warriors. He has chosen them well."

"Who?"

"Why have you come here?"

"The Vikings are my friends. We are here to send them home."

The old man sneered at Reverix and replied, "You are too late! The Vikings…they are no longer your friends. They are no longer themselves."

Reverix tightened his grip on his sword. "What are you talking about?"

"I have seen everything. I have seen the young riders. They have been chosen to see the darkness. They drank his blood. They lost their souls. When it is done…they will take pride in their newfound purpose."

Barclay sounded confused when he asked, "Whose blood are we talking about?"

But Reverix had a different question. "Why are they here? What do you want from them? Is it the dragons?"

The old Mongolian's calm demeanor seemed absolutely frightening. "You must hurry. You must flee this place."

"After what we have seen, I don't think so."

Then, the Mongolian gave a devious little smile. "You don't understand. The riders know you are here. They will find you…and they will kill you."

"Why?"

"Their emperor will not tolerate visitors like you."

"Their _emperor_? You mean…Genghis Khan?"

The old man's smile grew even larger. "Their fate is now in his hands…They are now his children."

Reverix slowly lowered his sword. "Who the hell are you?"

The old Mongolian brought the torch closer to his own torso. "I have seen too much. I cannot bear to take orders from that man again. I warned him many times. But he would never listen. And now, there is no knowing what will happen to all of you."

Anton still didn't lower his weapon. "Where is Khan? What does he want with this island? Tell us what you know."

The flame drew closer to the elder's clothes. "You must flee. There is no point in being here."

Reverix couldn't stop staring at the torch. "Tell us what you've seen."

The old man no longer smiled. "Now why would I do such a dangerous thing like that?"

Once the fire touched his torso, the entire human body went up in flames. The sudden fireball almost made the pirates jump back. They pulled themselves away from the excessive heat. The Mongolian didn't scream or even flinch in pain. He just collapsed on the ground and waited for the fire to help quicken his deterioration. He lay dead in seconds.

Reverix and the others could do nothing but stand there and watch as the old man ended his own life. It felt so strange. His entire body had been engulfed in an instant. Reverix didn't see any oil stains on his clothes, nor did he see a black puddle below him. As a result, the day ended with both a sunset and an arcane blaze.

* * *

And now, everyone understood the Mongols' warning. Reverix just sat on the front porch of a random stone house, gazing at the six Viking garbs sprawled on the dirt floor for everyone to see. They looked so empty and ominous without the young Vikings wearing them. The other pirates stood overhead with curious glances and terrified whispers.

Except Denin, who could do nothing but look heartbroken as he sat beside his uncle and captain.

Reverix didn't look away from Hiccup's outfit as he asked, "So what did you find in his journal?"

He heard Denin say, "You don't have to read the book. You just have to see for yourself."

Reverix turned his head to see Denin stuck in his gloomy state. It was the same look as the one when he lost his parents long ago.

Reverix tried to reassure him. "We will discover the truth soon. We will see what the Riders of Berk have become. Are you still with me?"

Denin didn't move. "I'm afraid…I don't want to see what they've become."

Reverix could feel the map of _Seere_ resting in his pocket. Even if he didn't like what he had just heard from his nephew, he knew exactly what to do.

"Always stay hopeful of their future."

* * *

This was it. There would be no going back.

Reverix gathered his crew in front of the dead forest. The sun had now advanced further below the horizon. Night would soon approach, and every pirate had to make sure none of their torches would go out in any way.

Everyone held their weapons in their hands. Reverix received a clear view of the dead forest, which would soon be shrouded in darkness. He tightened his grip on his sword. There would be no eating. There would be no sleeping. He only had the truth to look forward to.

"No matter what happens…we stick together."

His crew nodded in agreement.

Every one of them left the village and made their way deeper into the forest.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


	6. No Future For The Treacherous

SIX

NO FUTURE FOR THE TREACHEROUS

* * *

Zeema the Egyptian whispered, "Do you know what I hate about this forest?"

Reverix the Viking didn't look away from the open path in front of him. "What is it?"

"I can't hear anything. No birds, no rodents, not even a cricket. There is nothing alive here."

"They called this The Silent Forest for a good reason."

One hour since they departed from the village, the trees in the forest still didn't display any indication of life. Not a single leaf could be found. The flat terrain didn't even include a scrub of any sort. Just dirt and small rocks.

Reverix remarked, "I'm starting to wonder how the Romans could survive in a place like this."

Regardless, he and his crew continued on through the path of many possibilities.

* * *

Denin so desperately wanted to find another person on this island. It could have been anyone: a Viking, a Roman, or even a Mongolian who has surrendered himself and began indulging in the pirate life.

One hour after starting their journey through _Seere_ , they finally did manage to find someone else. Unfortunately, the person wasn't alive when the pirates found her.

They found the woman sitting in front of a tree. She certainly appeared lifeless, because her entire head had been wiped clean of its original skin and hair. Her skull, so terribly spotless, was what only remained in her current state. Everything else on her human body appeared intact. Her clothes had been drenched in what looked to have been black oil. But Denin didn't recognize the odor. It didn't smell like the oil that Barclay the Celt kept in his vase.

Some of the pirates whispered amongst each other. No one had ever seen anything like this. First the faceless woman in the Isle of Berk, and now this.

Furlock the Gaul crouched down and touched the black liquid with his fingers. "It's not oil. It's something else."

Reverix kept his eyes on the skull. "It's as if something cleaned the skin right off of her."

"There's no blood or anything. Even her eyes are gone. What the hell could have done this to her?"

Vidko the Russian was the first to notice the thick trail of black liquid that stretched from the tree to whatever lurked in the distance. He pointed his finger to the left and said, "Perhaps we will find the answer in that direction."

Reverix gazed in the same direction. The light from the torches couldn't be strong enough to show what lay ahead. The trail of the unknown black liquid stretched deeper into The Silent Forest.

"Come on. This way."

* * *

Reverix and his crew left the dead woman behind as they followed the trail. Denin followed right behind his uncle, the daggers in his hands ready to execute anyone who tried to take his life away.

The black trail didn't seem to end for the next few minutes, until the pirates finally reached it. Much to their dismay, the trail originated from the fourth crime scene they had discovered today.

A few dozen bodies lay scattered on the dirt floor. Every single of them had been drenched in the same liquid as the woman sitting against the tree.

Denin took a deep breath. "I can't believe this."

The garbs on the dead bodies gave off their true identities. The pirates could always recognize a Viking just from the armor, helmets, shields, and the weapon of choice. Reverix and Denin could only feel saddened at the loss of folks from their place of origin, no matter good or evil these people turned out to be.

The dead Vikings had been drenched in the same black liquid as the one on the woman. And just like her, parts of their bodies looked to have been picked clean from some unknown force. Whether it was an arm or a leg or even the ribcage, parts of their bodies showed only the bones and nothing else. Reverix and the pirates warily strolled through what could have been a battlefield. Their kept their eyes on the corpses and nothing else. The dead Vikings had lost a large fraction of their flesh before they died. One of them, for example, had both of his legs picked clean, resulting in only the bones being shown in the torchlights. Another had the entire lower half of her body devoid of flesh and blood.

Zeema had her eyes wide open. "How could this happen?"

Vidko could only give her a basic reply. "No one will know for now."

Reverix commanded his crew to not touch anything, especially the dark-colored fluid. He inspected the faces of the dead Vikings to see if he could recognize any of them. He only hoped that he didn't see the face of his friends.

He spent quite some time examining the dead Vikings. He still didn't come across a familiar face.

And when he did, he no longer had the heart to feel so stunned.

He crouched down in front of a dead body that lay on its back. He recognized the thick beard, the spiky shoulder pads, and the terrifying helmet.

Furlock joined his captain and remarked, "It looks like you know who he is."

To which Reverix replied, "Stoick and I knew him since our childhood years."

He took off his helmet as a sign of respect for his fallen comrade. "They call him Alvin the Treacherous. He and Stoick used to be enemies before everything was forgiven."

He and Furlock examined the entire body. Alvin's entire ribcage had been exposed, with no hints of regular red blood. The two pirates could not see any organs from behind the bones. They only found black stains on the remainder of Alvin's clothes.

"It's as though everything had been ripped right out of him."

Furlock quickly stood up. "First the black oil, and now this. I wonder if it's some sort of magic potion."

Reverix had no answers. All he could do was say a silent prayer for his fallen companion and hoped that Alvin the Treacherous had a safe path to Valhalla.

* * *

Denin could find nothing but dead bodies everywhere. There must have been at least three dozen Vikings who lost their lives in a possible battle against evil. The young man looked down at the ground to see various puddles and trails of the same black liquid that surrounded each lifeless victim.

But then, Denin eyed something else on the floor. He borrowed a torch from another pirate and gave himself a closer look at the footprints on the dirt. Both feet didn't look the same. The right foot appeared normal, but the left foot had the shape of a lizard's toes. The left was slightly larger than the right.

He had to wonder who these footprints belonged to. He could only think of the one Viking who lost his foot five years ago. But the left footprint didn't look human at all. Hiccup could have worn some kind of boot or something at this point.

Denin started to follow the footprints that would lead him right on the border of the crime scene. The closest live human being remained several feet behind him. The footprints started at the crime scene and ended at a far distance. He tried to see what lay ahead with the torchlight, but he couldn't see anything from beyond the trees. He couldn't see a single trace of human life from a hundred yards away. He slowly looked from left to right. The torchlight didn't show anything out of the ordinary. He couldn't see anyone who made those footprints.

He did, however, catch something at the corner of his eye: something that the torchlight couldn't expose for his own perception.

It looked like the silhouette of a person standing between the trees.

Denin quickly held his breath. He grabbed his dagger but he didn't have time to get a second look at what could have been a man. The image disappeared. It must have been a hundred yards away from the crime scene. And now, somehow it didn't exist in Denin's perspective anymore. The silhouette only lasted for a second before he even realized it was actually there. It took on the image of a skinny young man. Perhaps the one that the footprints belonged to.

Everything seemed so quiet, despite the mild commotion from behind. Denin stood absolutely still. He waited to see if he could spot the person in the shadows again, but it didn't return to his eyesight. Only the dead trees and the footprints remained.

Emilia the Spaniard joined him and looked to see what her friend stared at.

"What do you see?"

Denin cleared his throat. "I thought I saw a person standing in the dark. It was far away from here. I can't be sure if it even _is_ what I just saw."

Emilia looked down at the footprints. "Something's not right about this."

"Yeah, you're right about that."

* * *

Denin led his uncle to the footprints that may or may have not belonged to Hiccup. It didn't take long for Reverix to bring the map of _Seere_ out of his pocket.

"These footprints lead to a temple called Perem Doris. The map doesn't say what kind of temple, however."

Denin didn't know whether to feel hopeful or fearful. "Maybe that's where Hiccup is."

"Then that's where we're going."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


	7. Set In Stone

SEVEN

SET IN STONE

* * *

Perem Doris must have been a beautiful Roman temple hundreds of years ago. Because now, it looked like it had been struck by an unknown catastrophic event. The temple had the size and shape of the Pantheon, but the looks of a battered building. Most of the pillars surrounding the core of the temple had either plummeted down to the floor or just disappeared completely. In addition, it lacked a roof and a primary entrance: anyone could have entered from all directions. Just walk past the pillars and they would have found themselves right in the middle. And from the looks of the overall structure, Perem Doris may have been built several hundred years ago and destroyed just last week.

Reverix and his crew remained cautious as they had found their primary destination standing right in front of them. It appeared that no one else was visiting this place. Reverix signaled his thirty pirates to enter the temple with him.

With slow and careful sneaking, they kept their weapons close while gazing at every direction for potential enemies. But once they reached the center of the temple, they had to look up high to see what they stared at.

The image of a sinister-looking dragon had been set in stone. The unscathed statue must have been at least twenty feet tall. Never has Reverix seen the face of a dragon that looked so demonic. This one had the appearance of a nightmare. Everything about it, including its claws and open wings, made it seem clear that this creature shouldn't be messed with.

Reverix noticed something on the statue's scaly chest. A dozen human skulls of every size had been carved into its skin. He called for Havoc the Roman and asked if he had any knowledge of this particular dragon.

Havoc only shrugged his shoulders and said, "Not that I know of. Nobody from my hometown would recognize any of this. But whichever one it is, it sure looks creepy even to me."

Reverix called out to the rest of his crew, "Does anyone know what this dragon's name could be?"

Everyone shook their heads. All, except for Barclay the Celt.

The plump Irishman had his eyes wide open the entire time. "I know what this is."

And now, everyone started to pay attention to what Barclay would say.

"The Romans have carved this dragon so perfectly. The human skulls on its chest is especially correct."

Furlock the Gaul asked, "What do you call this creature?"

"Voriak is its name. It comes from an old legend. This dragon is a servant of an evil god who was destined to conquer the Earth. He summoned Voriak to create a human army that would do his bidding. Humans would be forced to drink the dragon's blood and become the combatants that fought in the name of their new god. But soon, good overwhelmed evil. The evil god had been destroyed and the Celtic armies captured Voriak. They sent him to a mysterious island and kept him in isolation for many years. Either they buried him alive or let him starve in a dungeon. Needless to say, the dragon died but his spirit lived on."

Reverix rubbed his fingers against the hilt of his sword. "What do you mean?"

"Voriak couldn't be killed that easily. Before all of this, he made a pact with his god that he would find a way to reawake from his death in some way. And legend has it that once his body decayed…his blood found a way to escape. He resides in the Island of Black Blood. His blood is everywhere. It could be in the rivers, or it could be the sap in the trees. It doesn't matter. If anyone has the power to control it, he can use it to produce an army of his own."

Reverix suddenly realized something. "So whoever drinks his blood…they join an army of darkness."

Barclay nodded. "At least that's what I remember when my own father told me this story."

"What do the skulls on its chest represent?"

"It is a very famous symbol. It is the future for anyone who drinks Voriak's blood."

"That must be why Genghis Khan is here."

Vidko the Russian's blank stare said it all. "To have the dragon riders drink the blood."

Reverix tried to understand it all in just a few seconds. "He may have found a way to use Voriak's blood. Remember what the old man said. ' _They drank his blood_. _They lost their souls_.' Maybe this is what he meant."

Barclay gave a nervous laugh. "I wish I could believe it, but I doubt it. It's just a legend from your good friends, the Celts."

Denin quickly raised his hand. "Anton said something similar. He said that there's a Mongolian myth about a magic elixir. Whoever drinks it becomes a great warrior with extraordinary powers. But their freedoms are confined because of anyone who is in control of their fate."

Anton the Bulgarian gave a little smile. "You have such a good memory."

Reverix took another look at the statue of Voriak. "Khan sees the blood as the magic elixir. It's making more sense than ever before. The Riders of Berk drank the dragon's blood."

Denin remarked, "Yeah, but what about the black oil?"

"Now _that_ is the one that leaves me baffled."

Anton placed a hand on the statue. "I am curious to see where the blood is hiding."

Furlock sounded like he refused to believe what he just heard. "How can you be sure that it's actual blood? These sort of things can be just legends and myths."

Anton's little smile grew just a little more devious. "You'll be surprised by just how _any_ of it can be true."

* * *

Denin had hoped that he found the one who made the unusual footprints. Unfortunately, the footprints ended at the outskirts of Perem Doris. He couldn't catch anyone in sight who could have wandered alone in the Silent Forest. He could only feel disappointed that he still couldn't catch sight of Hiccup or any of his dragon rider friends.

Denin looked up at the full moon finding its place in a cloudless night sky. Everything had changed. The Isle of Berk wouldn't be the same. He could only hope that his Viking friends would stay the same.

He whispered to himself, "This really is a Land of a Thousand Scars."

After discovering the temple, everyone had been told by the captain to investigate the building. Denin, Emilia, and Kinesh looked around the temple and found nothing. The young Viking was about to start a discussion with the Spaniard, until he could hear the Indian giving a slow gasp.

Denin turned around to see Kinesh's eyes being wide open. "What is it?"

Kinesh quickly pressed his finger against his lips. "Sssh."

Denin and Emilia knew when to keep quiet, and most of it had to do with Kinesh being such an excellent observer.

The young Indian acquaintance slowly raised one of his throwing knives while closing his eyes. Denin stood still. Kinesh's body movement could only indicate something sinister brewing in the area. The captain's nephew watched as his attentive friend raised his knife high and faced the dead trees from outside the temple.

Kinesh only needed a fraction of a second to toss the knife in a random direction. Something small arrived from the dead trees at a quickened pace. Sparks flew, and the knife immediately fell to the floor alongside something else.

Denin and Emilia looked down to see that the knife had kept a single arrow from injuring either one of them.

All of a sudden, someone in the far distance began to scream. The arrow on the floor led the young pirates to believe that the scream had a legitimate purpose.

Most likely a war cry.

Denin quickly turned around to warn the rest of the crew.

"We're under attack!"

It took everyone a fraction of a second to realize that several more arrows began to emerge from the distance darkness.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


	8. The Beauty of Flight

EIGHT

THE BEAUTY OF FLIGHT

* * *

Unfortunately, two pirates from within Perem Doris didn't have time to duck, giving the unknown enemy their first victims of the night. Once the two pirates collapsed, Reverix raised his sword and commanded his remaining crew to stand their ground. Most of them either used their shields or hid behind pillars to keep the arrows from piercing their skin. Denin, Emilia, and Kinesh stayed close to each other as they kept their attention on the distant darkness in the woods. The arrows stopped appearing. Another cry from the Silent Forest gave a clear signal.

The pirates raised their weapons and waited for what could potentially be an assault on Perem Doris.

Reverix yelled to his comrades, "No matter what happens, we fight to the death!"

In agreement, his crew gave their own war cry in unison.

They stood their ground and looked in all directions. A faint noise from the forest quickly became a recognizable sound. Repetitive thumping could only mean horses on the ground.

Barclay pointed his finger and shouted, "Over there!"

Everyone looked at his direction to see the first few horsemen charging toward the ruined temple.

Reverix could see it all now. The horsemen were Mongolian. He could recognize their Oriental-style armor and weaponry. Several more horsemen emerged from the forest. And now, all of them held their swords in their hands and shouted the same war cry as before.

The pirates waited until the horsemen could attack. And when the enemies were close enough, the pirates attacked first.

Furlock swung his mace and hit an incoming horse in the neck, causing it to fall immediately on the ground. The Mongol who rode it jumped and, with seething rage in his eyes, charged toward the Gaul.

Havoc threw his spear at another horseman. And when it came into contact with the Mongol's belly, the horseman fell out of his saddle and lay motionless on the dirt. Havoc only needed a few seconds to retrieve his spear by pulling it out of his enemy and attack another incoming horse in its head.

Within seconds, every single pirate had their own confrontation with many different Mongols. Chaos reigned in Perem Doris.

Reverix could see, from the corner of his eye, another one of his crew members falling victim to a horseman's sword. At the same time, however, he could see Kinesh throwing one of his knives at a Mongol who was about to attack Striker from behind.

Reverix could only hope that his crew had enough strength and intellect to conquer their enemies in a short time.

Perem Doris came alive with cries of excitement and agony. Metal clashed with metal. Sharp edges punctured through human skin. Casualties began to grow on both sides.

Reverix spent his time swinging his sword at two Mongols who tried to take him down with their own spears. He didn't need to outsmart them. He just needed to exterminate them in any way he could. Both Mongols charged with their spears. Reverix kept his grip on his sword tight as he swung it from right to left. He was able to cut through their spears right in the middle. But the Mongols quickly dropped their destroyed spears and unsheathed their swords. Reverix protected himself by diverting their blades with his own.

Striker didn't need a sword or an axe. He just had his gauntlet, which was comprised of sharp bear claws. He didn't merely scratch his enemies. He used his bear-claw gauntlets to slit any throat he could find. Once a Mongol tried to attack him, Striker thrust his gauntlet forward and made its mark on the Mongol's throat. Blood burst out of his new wound and his entire body weakened. Striker didn't have time to watch his enemy collapse on the floor. He just waited for another Mongol to have a little taste of his bear claws.

The pirates demonstrated their brutality in their own unique ways: Anton with his scythe, Kinesh with his throwing knives, Denin with his dual daggers, Vidko with his pump-action crossbow, and Barclay with his war hammer. With years of experience in the sea, fighting on land gave off a refreshing feeling in their current state of minds.

Casualties for the pirates had stopped, while death among the Mongols experienced a sharp incline. One of the horsemen cried out something in his own native language. That was when the rest of the Mongols started their retreat. They left the ruined temple as it was.

This would not have been a good time to celebrate. Reverix checked to see which one of his crew had lost their lives. So far, four of them (three males and a female) lay motionless on the ground. Zeema wouldn't save them with any of her medical knowledge.

Reverix now set his attention on the forest in front of him and his crew. He knew that the Mongol wouldn't give up that easily.

Anton whispered, "We could have at least talked it out like decent human beings."

Of course, Reverix knew that the Bulgarian made a little joke. He waited for the remaining Mongols to achieve their second wave. But he couldn't hear any more horses charging with their loud hooves. In fact, he couldn't hear anything else in the darkness. Only the pirates' torches made a faint noise in the air.

Zeema seemed to have noticed. "Why is it so quiet all of a sudden?"

Vidko's blank stare returned. "We have a surprise coming our way."

Emilia whispered to Denin, "I just hate it when he says that."

Reverix could finally hear something emerging from the darkness. It sounded similar to the one from earlier, when the ship was surrounded by fog. He could suddenly recognize it. It sounded like wings flapping from above.

He looked up to see a shadowy figure plummeting straight down on the temple. The wings on its side became a dead giveaway.

"Watch out!"

The pirates began to duck as the dragon knocked down two pillars before fleeing into the forest. The pillars almost crushed Havoc and Emilia as they crashed onto the dirt floor.

Anton narrowed his eyes. "…Reinforcements."

From out of nowhere, a fireball appeared from the sky and landed near Furlock, Barclay, and Anton. It exploded, resulting in a huge flame erupting between them. On the other side of the temple, a bright beam of purple light struck the ground, causing two other pirates to jump high owing to the powerful blast that came with it.

Reverix looked in all directions for another flying beast. He shouted at his crew, "Use your arrows if you have to!"

Vidko wasted no time in using his crossbow. As a third dragon flew straight ahead at its prey, the Russian shot four consecutive arrows at its scales. He didn't have to reload yet, as he specifically built this pump-action crossbow to fire several arrows in just five seconds.

But his weaponry didn't stop the dragon from grabbing two female pirates with its claws and soaring straight up into the sky. Reverix could only watch in horror as the dragon released them from its grip and let them plummet to their deaths. Both humans made a sold landing on the stone pillars and didn't move a muscle afterwards.

Now, a clear majority of the remaining pirates used their bows and arrows to attack their new predators. Denin tried to aim at one that closed in on two more pirates, but another fireball made its mark a few feet in front of him. He had to take a few steps back and watch as another dragon seized two more of his comrades and raised them high into the air. He didn't want to look when it would throw them down without a single care.

The pirates became more disoriented than usual. With the five or so dragons attacking at all directions, no one had the time to ease their newfound dread.

Denin could hear his uncle signaling everyone to finally retreat. The young man turned around to see Reverix, Furlock, Anton, Vidko, and Barclay forming a circle to confront the dragons at once. He also noticed a pirate completely engulfed in flames. The burning victim screamed and waved his arms in pain. Denin tried to help him, but he knew he couldn't do anything. All of a sudden, a dark-colored dragon reached out and grabbed the burning man with its mouth. It swung his head from left to right to toss its prey around. It finally threw him against a hollow tree and the man, still drenched with fire, no longer moved.

Denin aimed his bow and arrow at the dragon. It landed on one of the few remaining pillars still standing upright. Denin now had a good look at the dragon, which made him lower his weapon and remain speechless for quite some time. He had seen the dragon before. In fact, he already knew its name.

Toothless.

The dragon held a terrifying look in his eyes as it slowly crawled down the pillar and eyed its next target, namely the blond Viking standing alone amidst the pandemonium. Toothless growled. He showed off his sharp teeth ready for use once more.

Denin had to aim his arrow at Toothless's head. He had learned to strike down his enemy, even if it was a friend either brainwashed or braindead.

"Denin!" The captain's nephew could hear Zeema's voice from his left side. She joined him as she was about to use her own bow and arrow against Toothless.

Toothless narrowed his eyes and gave a loud howling shriek.

And then, Denin and Zeema no longer had the opportunity to use their bows and arrows. Another dragon appeared out of nowhere and closed its fingers around Denin and Zeema. The grasp was so swift that the two pirates had to drop their weapons just by the sheer strength and haste of such an action. The dragon lifted them up high while fleeing from Perem Doris. Denin could see the temple and his comrades growing smaller and smaller within seconds. He and Zeema tried to escape from the dragon's grasp by pounding its fingers with their fists, but nothing changed. The dragon kept its grip strong.

Meanwhile, back on the ground, the other dragons now had the remaining pirates completely surrounded. The humans didn't lower their weapons just yet. They were ready to strike back if the dragons made their move again.

Reverix had a clear view of the dragons that surrounded him and his crew. Most of them became familiar in regards to his memory. They were the ones that lived in the Isle of Berk alongside their riders. Toothless, Stormfly, Barf & Belch, Meatlug, Hookfang, and a few other dragons showed off their jaws and growled at their enemies. They had the look of genuine predators preparing to slaughter their prey with grandeur.

Reverix whispered to himself, "Oh, how I wish this was all a joke."

Barf & Belch made their first move. They raced for their next targets without hesitation and without judgment.

* * *

Denin didn't know how long the dragon would keep them enclosed in its giant paws. The earth seemed to move in a swift fashion. Denin watched as the dragon led them across steep cliffs, a sight unacquainted in their perception. He called out to Zeema, who also tried to hold on tight to avoid a sudden plunge to the dead forest below. With Denin in its left paw and Zeema in the right, the dragon must have had a good idea where it would lead its prey.

"We can't kill it, but we can try to tame it!"

Zeema shouted, "How?!"

"First we open its paws! Then, we ride it out on its back!"

Denin unsheathed one of his daggers and threw it to Zeema, who in turn caught it by its handle.

"Now, just do what I do!"

He stabbed one of the fingers hard with his own dagger. He could hear the dragon howl in pain. It even lowered itself below the dead forest.

Zeema did the same by using the dagger to her advantage. She thrust it deep inside the dragon's finger. But unlike Denin, who could feel the fingers loosening and slowly opening, Zeema experienced the exact opposite. The fingers that closed around her waist opened up as fast as it could. Zeema didn't have time to react and grab at its open fingers. She dropped down to the forest below. Denin looked to see that she didn't fall that far. She dropped fifteen feet and landed on one of the dead trees. She grabbed on to one of the boughs without a scratch.

Denin could only assume that she would be okay. In the meantime, he had to climb up and try to ride the dragon that captured him in the first place. He climbed up the dragon's arm, despite it trying to push him off. It proved to be a difficult task with the strong winds striking him in an endless fashion. Nevertheless, the young Viking made it to the top. He began to ride it out on the dragon's back. He held on to its long neck and watched as it flew across a mountaintop. Denin caught a large portion of the island in his perspective. Now, he could see how Hiccup and the other Hooligan tribespeople gladly spoke of the beauty of flight.

After snapping back to reality, Denin tried to control the dragon that tried to kill him. Unfortunately, he didn't know anything about dragon-riding.

He could only rely on some improvisation. "Hear me, you creature of the night!"

He tried hard not to cringe when speaking those words. He continued, "Hear my voice! Uh…I will now control your every move! Take me back to my people!"

But it didn't listen. The dragon landed right in the middle of a different dead forest. The direct landing was so sudden that it caused Denin to fling himself off of the dragon's back. He landed right on the dirt. It took him only a few seconds to stand up straight and unsheathe his one and only dagger. The dragon appeared ready to pounce on him for its next hot supper.

Since Denin couldn't control it, he then tried to reason with it. "Why don't we just get along?"

The dragon growled at him, but all of a sudden, it swerved its head to the right. It was as though it caught sight of something in the distance that Denin definitely couldn't. Denin looked at the same direction. All he could see were empty mountaintops surrounded by dead trees and steep cliffs. The full moon wasn't enough to reveal whoever (or whatever) roamed in that place.

The dragon turned back at its victim and growled once more. And in just a few seconds, it turned again to look at the distant mountains. Without a moment to lose, it flapped open its wings and began to fly. It fled from Denin and led itself further between the mountaintops. Within moments, it disappeared from behind the cliffs.

It became silent. Denin was now all by himself. He looked around and found himself in another dead forest. But this time, he stood on a hillside rather than on flat terrain. He didn't have a torch, so he could only rely on the full moon to show him the way. He chose one direction: the way to the top of the hillside. He most likely would be unable to find the other pirates until the sun would rise. Now, all he had to do was survive the night.

* * *

As soon as she climbed down the dead tree without injuries, Zeema looked around to see that she remained alone. She had seen Denin holding on to the dragon's open paw before both of them disappeared in the darkness. She hoped that the young Viking would stay alive during this entire ordeal.

The twenty-five-year-old Egyptian still had one of Denin's daggers in her hand. With everything she had seen, she knew that self-defense couldn't find an expiration date just yet.

Especially since she heard something in the distance. She looked to see where she could locate the creature that growled at her. She could only see darkness in the forest. It didn't sound like a human growling at her. It sounded like an enormous monster signaling its first strike.

Zeema didn't have time to feel afraid. She turned the other way and ran as fast as she could. Even as the growling grew slightly louder, she didn't look behind her and just continued on to find an appropriate escape route.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


	9. Dangerous Disciple

NINE

DANGEROUS DISCIPLE

* * *

They ran as fast as they could. The pirates tried not to look behind them as they attempted their abrupt escape from their new enemy. Reverix the Viking knew how fast and operational the dragons could be, and he couldn't afford another risk that claimed the lives of his comrades. Whoever survived the confrontation in Perem Doris stayed close together without any abandonments whatsoever.

The dragons showed no signs of leaving the human intruders alone. They did everything they could to their prey. They made the ground explode with their powers. They flew down and snatched a pirate with their claws and flung him to one of the dead trees, making him break every bone in his body. They even flew straight down and stomped on them with their feet. At this rate, Reverix could be losing half of his company in just one night.

Barclay the Celt pointed at something. "Look! Another temple!"

Reverix still had time to survey the view in front of him, and he immediately spotted what Barclay pointed at. It looked to be another Roman temple, but unlike Perem Doris, the building looked untouched by foreign hostility and had been constructed as a rectangular structure like the Parthenon. But it appeared rather small compared to every other building in Rome.

Reverix yelled, "Quick! To the temple!"

The survivors ran inside the temple. They discovered an open entryway in the middle of the temple that led downstairs. They didn't consider the possibilities of entering dangerous territory. They just made a dash down the stairs and found a long hallway illuminated with torches. But it wasn't fire that created light. The iron torches had sphere-shaped crystals that glowed in the dark. None of the pirates had ever seen such a unique invention.

Everything went silent. The dragons no longer roared from outside. The pirates stayed in the hallway until they were absolutely sure that they would be safe to leave the temple. Reverix no longer questioned the dragons' barbaric behaviors. The high possibility of being poisoned by Voriak became more obvious.

Emilia the Spaniard whispered, "I'm starting to hate dragons."

Donner the Dane looked rather furious. The tall and muscular gentleman clenched his fists. "Oh, I can't wait until I bash their brains in."

Anton the Bulgarian patted him on the shoulder. "Calm yourself. Save it for the Mongols. I fear that the dragons are just doing their job."

Reverix looked around to see who survived the latest skirmish on land. He counted eleven survivors, including himself.

And then, he realized something. "Where's Denin? Where's my nephew?"

Havoc the Roman raised his hand. "I saw him and Zeema being carried away by one of the dragons. It didn't drop them or anything. It just flew away."

"They may be still alive. There's still a chance!"

Anton stood in front of him to avoid a quick exit from the temple. "Yes, captain. He's still alive, we believe you. But I think it is best that we don't give ourselves away to our enemies too quickly. Denin can take care of himself. We know it."

Reverix took a deep breath as he tightened his grip on his sword. "Yes, Denin can take care of himself."

He liked to believe it.

Furlock the Gaul added, "Don't worry. We'll find him and Zeema breathing and still in one piece."

Barclay noticed something on the wall. "Would you look at this?"

The pirates shifted their attention to a large crack on the concrete. Black liquid seeped through the crack, dripped down the wall, and produced a small puddle on the floor.

Emilia asked, "Is it oil?"

Barclay leaned forward and took a little sniff. "No, it's the same one that killed Alvin the Treacherous. It's making me wonder if there's a huge batch of it behind this wall."

Havoc pointed at the other wall. "There's another one."

The crack appeared smaller, but the puddle on the floor was the same size as the other one.

Barclay slowly raised his hammer. "Maybe it's Voriak's blood."

This made Reverix much more cautious. "Everyone, be careful. I have a feeling that we're about to discover something at the other end of this hallway."

Furlock the Gaul shrugged his shoulders as he spoke with a laidback, almost monotonous tone. "Well, you could have at least given me a chance to visit a Polynesian island instead of this."

Striker the Icelander laughed. "Now I have a craving for coconuts."

Donner added, "A massage sounds nicer."

Reverix narrowed his eyes. "Stop it! Stay focused and follow me."

He led his comrades deeper into the hallway. They found a few more cracks coupled with black puddles. Once they reached the end of the hallway, they found a long spiral staircase that led further down the bottom of the earth. More crystal torches had been placed on the walls.

Kinesh the Indian asked, "What do you supposed is down there? A ghost? A demon? A tiger the size of a whale?"

Reverix didn't give a reply. He just walked down the stairs and led his pirates deeper down into unknown territory.

* * *

Denin would have made a torch, but he found his flint stones worthless against dry and dusty wood. The trees had been deceased for such a long time that the boughs couldn't be used for illumination. Rain was apparently non-existent for the past hundred years or so. He still had the moon to keep him from being enveloped by complete darkness.

So far, he couldn't find any of his companions yet. But he did find something in the dirt below him. He had found more footprints similar to what he and his companions had found before the short trek to Perem Doris. Several people had their presence known with their footprints. But what caught Denin's attention was one that made him suspicious. The right foot appeared normal, but the left one had the shape of a lizard's foot. Denin knew it to be the same one he had found before he and Zeema separated from the group.

Perhaps Hiccup had previously wandered around this area after all.

Denin wielded his one remaining dagger and followed the human footsteps that led him further up a hillside.

* * *

The Romans who constructed the temple clearly didn't give the pirates any hints that they would discover a cave underneath. The interior looked massive, with stalagmites and stalactites in all directions. Crystal torches had been hung everywhere as well. They gave the pirates a clearer view of the gigantic pools on the floor. Every single of them contained the same black-colored liquid that everyone had seen for a long time. Whether it was oil or blood, it was being collected in this cave. Much of it were spewing out of the walls and landed in the puddles. Dripping down the walls made them create a wet and sludgy sound. They even dripped down from several stalactites. The pirates remained careful as they stayed away from anything that could force them to come in contact with such a mysterious liquid.

But the pirates discovered something else. There must have been over a dozen human skeletons lying around on the floor. The bones had been drenched in dried-up black water. Some of them still had their Roman attire on their bodies.

Havoc didn't sound too pleased. "I'm already ready to go back to the surface."

Barclay remarked, "This entire place is soaked with black blood."

Reverix kept his composure intact. "Voriak is sounding to be more authentic by the minute."

Vidko the Russian slowly looked from left to right. "This place feels so…alive."

Emilia took one step back. "What do you mean by that?"

Vidko closed his eyes. "You can feel it. This place has a feeling."

Reverix suddenly could hear a faint noise, a very deep and rhythmic noise. It sounded like a hollow echo of a heartbeat. And it began to grow louder.

"I can hear it."

Furlock added, "I can hear it, too."

Kinesh slowly gasped. "It's a new experience…I like it."

Then, he let out his typical psychotic laugh.

Reverix heard something other than a heartbeat.

He heard distant footsteps growing louder. He quickly assumed it to be a Viking from the Isle of Berk.

A deep masculine voice, however, erased his small hope of finally finding anyone whom he was familiar with. He couldn't identify the voice at all.

"You are not welcome here! You are not ready for the heart and soul of our new emperor! You will be dead before you even leave this place! I, for one, will never let you leave! You should be prisoners. But there is a chance. Be a disciple just like me. Become his children!"

He and his comrades looked to see a middle-aged man, drenched in black liquid and drawing ever so closer. His current apparel made him to appear as one of the Romans who lived on this island.

The self-proclaimed disciple didn't seem to look and act like his usual self. Instead, he had the appearance and personality of a deranged cult leader, something that he may have not been before.

"The only way to survive is to drink it. Drink his blood!"

Reverix could see something in the disciple's hand. "What in the name of Valhalla has happened here?"

The disciple raised the bloodied heart up to his chest. "He is alive! We have become his children! We are the ones who will keep his spirit alive and well! Drink his blood, and you will see that he _must_ live on."

Reverix raised his axe. "Who is he?"

The disciple had the smile of a psycho. "He is the island. He is…the world!"

His sinister laugh made half of the pirates tremble with fear. Vidko raised his crossbow and pointed it at the crazed Roman.

Reverix quickly lowered it down for him. "Don't fire. He can give us the answers we're looking for."

The disciple stepped closer and raised the bloodied heart high up in the air. "Your time is now! You will drink and you will see the purpose you have in this world."

Havoc raised his spear. "There is no way in Hell am I going to drink this stuff!"

The disciple suddenly frowned. "That is not the answer that we want to hear."

Reverix noticed ripples forming on the black pools. The sound of the heart beat grew even louder.

The disciple growled. "I can see now why you are not welcome here."

The ripples on the black water suddenly showed the cause. Something emerged from the surface. Three heads popped out of the water. They stepped out of the pool and had their eyes on the intruders. They were three tigers drenched in black water. Their sharp fangs, menacing glares, and deep growling made them predators more dangerous than their original forms.

The disciple laughed. "There is nothing else for you here!"

The tigers let out a piercing shriek.

Reverix had only a few seconds for the oily felines to lunge at them before he shouted, "Retreat!"

The pirates turned back and ran back up the spiral staircase. They didn't look back as they clearly didn't want to. They made it to the top of the staircase, ran straight across the hallway, and exited the temple. They didn't even care if dragons stood waiting for their next kill. They just didn't want to have anything to do with whatever lurked in the Roman disciple's cave.

But they didn't have time to breathe a sigh of relief.

They heard the distant sounds of the familiar Mongolian war cry. Reverix and the pirates couldn't see anything in the darkness. The captain grabbed a crystal torch that hung near the front entrance of the temple.

"Everyone follow me!"

He led his last remaining comrades away from the war cries by running in the opposite direction.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


	10. They're Going To Kill Me

TEN

THEY'RE GOING TO KILL ME

* * *

The growling noise didn't stop. She didn't stop running away. She tried to see what was chasing her. But every time she turned around, she couldn't see anything. The darkness in the forest prevented her from spotting the creature that had its sights on her.

Zeema the Egyptian ran past boulders and dead trees. She could feel a drop of sweat forming on her forehead. She took quicker breaths as she gained a feeling of exhaustion after fleeing from an unseen enemy. She knew that she would have to stop for rest, but first, she had to find either an appropriate escape or a hiding space too small for anything grown up from an average human size.

She constantly hoped that she would find her friends. Perhaps Denin had survived and now began to look for a familiar face such as hers. But instead, she found the outskirts of the Silent Forest. A row of empty hills devoid of trees and bushes stood in her way. She had no choice. She ran up the hillside and tried to reach the top. She didn't look behind her anymore.

This time, the growling stopped. But that didn't stop Zeema from making it to the top of the hill. And when she did, she didn't stop. She had only one thing in her mind, and that was to make a dash to the other side of the hill. She didn't realize, however, that the other side would be steeper. She lost her footing and tripped. She rolled down the hill in a hurried fashion. Not only did it hurt, but it also made her dizzy. She finally managed to land at the base of the hill. She only felt mild pain on her body, so she assumed that she didn't break any bones.

She started to get up, and when she spotted something at the corner of her eye, she immediately wielded Denin's dagger. She had lost her primary weapons back in Perem Doris. If only the dragon didn't abduct her. Thanks to the moon, she had a clear view of what lay just a few feet in front of her. She gasped. She recognized the species of the dead carcass. A dragon lay still on the dirt floor. It looked to have been decaying for quite some time. Parts of its body had been ripped open, revealing its bones and rotting organs. Its open eyes absolutely lacked any expression.

Zeema stood up and looked around. The dead dragon didn't become the only one that she discovered in this small area. Several more dragons lay dead on the base of the hill. They had the same features on their bodies. She had to cover her nose. She couldn't handle the ghastly smell on these rotting corpses. She couldn't handle the sight of these dead beasts. She did notice something strange. At first, it looked like dry blood on the dirt. Upon closer inspection, they appeared to be the same black liquid surrounding the coastal village and the dead Vikings.

Zeema turned around. She wanted to leave the scene. All of a sudden, she heard the sounds of a twig snapping in the distance. She remained cautious as she wielded the dagger in her hand.

A young teenage girl ran in her direction. She was slim and had blonde hair. She looked to be fourteen or fifteen years old. Her attire signified her Scandinavian origins, most likely Viking territory. And furthermore, she looked frightened, something that Zeema couldn't question seeing as how this island didn't include any positive content.

Zeema called to her. "Stop! I won't hurt you."

The young Viking girl almost ran into her. Zeema had to grab her to get her attention.

"Calm down! No one is here to hurt you."

The Viking girl's eyes showed absolute fear. "I can't stop! They're out to get me!"

"Who?"

"The riders! They're going to kill me! You have to let me go!"

The Viking girl managed to escape Zeema's grasp and fled in a random direction. Zeema suddenly heard the distant roar of a beast ready to strike. She turned around and spotted a single individual standing on the hilltop. It wasn't another Viking. The individual's clothing and armor could only originate from a place called the Mongol Empire.

Zeema gasped. The Mongolian man standing on the hilltop gave her an icy stare that made her shiver. He stood still. He didn't give any signals that he himself would attack her.

Zeema took one step back. She could think of one Mongolian that would frighten her with his eyes.

Genghis Khan.

The supreme Mongol leader slowly raised his clenched fist and yelled something in his native language. Zeema didn't understand his declaration, but the loud roars in the distance gave her a hint. She decided to flee and follow the Viking girl who tried to escape her fate.

* * *

She exited the dragon killing ground. She could see the Viking girl almost disappearing in a new part of the island. She had to quicken her pace in order to keep the young girl in her sights.

She followed her as they entered a realm filled with mountains and sleep cliffs. Tall and dead evergreen trees hard it hard for Zeema to see further in the distance. She shouted at the Viking girl to keep running. Otherwise, they would fall victim to dragons ready to feast on human flesh.

The distant roars didn't stop. Zeema looked up to see if she could spot any dragons flying in the air. For only one second, she could see a shadowy figure that resembled a dragon in the sky before it blended in with the darkness. Just a few seconds later, she caught sight of another dragon-shaped figure before it disappeared behind a nearby mountain.

Zeema had to move forward. She had to make sure that the young Viking girl would leave the island unscathed.

She could hear wings flapping from behind her. As soon as she heard the roar, she ducked down and lay flay on her stomach. She looked up to see a red-colored dragon flying right past her and disappearing between the mountaintops. She noticed a man riding on top of the dragon before both of them flew away. She couldn't get a good look at his face since the two of them had their backs turned.

Everything happened so fast. It seemed like a blur. The dragons and their riders could have been teasing their prey. Zeema just couldn't find a reason for it. She could only hope that she and the Viking girl would reach safety in time.

The Egyptian pirate was about to run past a dead tree. Suddenly, something loud and bright descended from above. Zeema caught sight of it. A bolt of lightning struck the tree, causing it to explode. Bits and pieces of wood flew everywhere. Zeema had to stop and protect her head with her arms. It seemed strange. The sky remained clear, and yet a bolt of lightning had made its startling presence in the most authentic way possible.

The tree burst into flames. She looked around, and in a split second, spotted one of the dragons disappearing into the mountains. It left with a giant howl in the sky. The tree's fire grew at a fast rate. She grabbed a long thick branch with the top set on fire. Another dragon let out a loud howl. Zeema made a quick decision. She turned around and tossed the branch at the incoming reptilian projectile. The dragon flew straight up. The branch missed its entire body by a few feet. Zeema couldn't see who the one who tamed the creature really was. Both dragon and rider vanished. In fact, everything went silent again. She could no longer see any other entity anywhere.

Zeema didn't have time to think. She continued to make a run for it.

* * *

A few minutes later, she found herself in a deep rocky valley. Steep cliffs stood between wide and flat terrain. She looked behind her to see not a trace of a dragon nor a ride charging after her. She kept herself from feeling relieved. She had to find the young Viking girl. She stepped deeper into the gorge. She looked up and predicted that the rocky cliffs must have been at least a hundred feet high. Still, the ground below was so wide and large that dragons easily had enough room to wander around if they ever let their curiosity take over.

Zeema had to be careful. It became too silent at a time like this. Only the twigs snapping below her made any noise. She almost forgot about the dagger in her hand. She took a deep breath and looked around.

She heard the distant sound of someone sobbing. She spotted the Viking girl sitting near a lone dead tree in the middle of the gorge. She put the dagger away in her strap and ran up to her to see if she had been hurt.

She whispered, "Listen, what's your name?"

The Viking girl looked at her with frightened eyes. "My…my name's Larissa."

Zeema checked and didn't find any wounds on the teenage Viking. "What happened? What do the dragon riders want from you?"

"I have to get out of here. I don't want to be on this island anymore."

Zeema looked around to see if she could spot anyone. "Don't worry. You and I will leave this island together. But first, you must tell me why they're trying to kill you."

Larissa wiped away her tears. "They want to kill me…because I don't want to be like them."

"How can you become like them?"

"They want me to drink his blood. But I know that bad things would happen if I did. I don't want to be like the riders. I don't want to be one of his children."

"Whose children? Genghis Khan's children?"

Larissa slowly nodded. "I've seen what happens when you belong to him. The dragon riders have been poisoned. They're no longer themselves. Now, they're nothing but barbarians. I've seen what they've done to our own people. They killed them. They tore them apart."

Her eyes slowly widened. "They killed my parents. They killed my little brother. I've never seen so much blood."

"Oh, Larissa. I'm so sorry."

"I can't believe it. The riders want us dead. It shouldn't be like this. They used to be heroes. Why is this happening to us?!"

Zeema tried to calm her down. She didn't even realize what transpired on the cliff. An enormous beast used its paws to climb down the cliff with minimal noise involved. It had its eyes on the two humans resting near a lone tree. It licked its lips as it prepared itself for its imminent strike.

Zeema didn't notice it reaching the ground and slowly standing up. But Larissa did. She screamed. Zeema turned around and saw it. She was speechless.

A gigantic wolf creature stood on its hind legs. It had the shape of a human as it had arms and hands instead of forepaws. It had thick gray fur and sharp teeth. It must have been at least forty feet tall. The giant anthropomorphic wolf stepped closer as it growled.

Larissa kept screaming as she fled and left Zeema behind.

Zeema was about to follow her, but the giant wolf raced right past her, causing her to step aside to avoid being stomped on. She watched as the giant wolf chase Larissa through the gorge.

The teenage Viking never had a chance. The giant wolf had already caught up to her. It had her cornered. It reached down and closed its fingers around her. It lifted her up off the ground as she kicked and screamed. Her desperate attempt to escape its grasp could only prove to be meaningless. The giant wolf opened its mouth and pushed her entire body in. Zeema could do nothing but watch as it crunched down on her waist, and then on her flailing legs. She disappeared completely as the wolf swallowed her in one gulp. Zeema could no longer hear her scream.

The giant wolf slowly turned and now saw the Egyptian pirate as its next target. Zeema had no other option but to run as fast as she could. Since the wolf blocked the only known entrance of the gorge, she had to run the other way. She hoped to find another way out of this deep rocky valley.

* * *

She could hear the sounds of giant stomping feet from behind. She couldn't tell whether or not the beast would catch up to her. But then, she noticed that the gorge grew thinner. The passage in front of her had grown narrow. She made one sharp turn, and all of a sudden, she found the end of the path. It led her to a dead end. She was now surrounded by steep cliffs from left to right.

Refusing to see this as a bitter end to her life, Zeema tried to climb the rocky cliff. It started with several seconds of success before the cliff had already become too steep for her to ascend. She slipped and slid down to the ground. She tried to repeat her climb, but the sight of the giant wolf slowly treading closer toward her made her stop.

She looked around to search for an effective weapon, and could only find rocks and small sticks laying around. Instead, she pulled out Denin's dagger from her strap and hoped that it would do enough damage to the giant wolf that now towering over her. She tightened her grip on the hilt and tried to stay composed.

The giant wolf crouched down and reached out with its arm. It surrounded her with its giant fingers before they closed around her. Even if she felt its grip tightening, she still did everything to escape its grasp. She tried to push the fingers away, she punched them with her fist, and she stabbed them with the dagger. The blade did only minimal damage by making scratches rather than puncturing right through its skin. The giant wolf hoisted her up from the ground and raised her up. She squirmed in its grasp and couldn't stop kicking. But Larissa had done the same thing and it didn't help her at all.

Zeema finally stopped moving as the giant wolf gazed at her with solemn eyes. It started to growl after quickly licking its lips.

Zeema showed off the dagger in her hand and swung it in front of the wolf's head. "Put me down now!"

The wolf raised its other hand and used its finger to flick the dagger away from Zeema's hand. She watched in horror as the dagger fell to the floor. She was now defenseless in the eyes of her predator.

She waited for it. It would only be a matter of time before the wolf would open its mouth and push her in. She would join Larissa as they would slowly melt in the wolf's stomach. She began to tremble in its grasp. She had never felt so frightened in her entire life.

But then, the wolf took a step forward. It began to take a walk with the pirate still in its hand. Soon, it exited the gorge and back to the place where the lone dead tree was struck by lightning. Zeema still waited for the wolf to finish its dinner. She held her breath for a moment.

The wolf stopped walking. It lowered its hand and loosened its grip. As soon as its hand reached the floor, it let go of Zeema and let her feet touch the ground once more. She could have run away had it not for the supreme Mongol leader and his battalion of dedicated soldiers standing in her way.

One look at Genghis Khan and Zeema almost went weak in the knees. She refused to faint.

Genghis Khan grabbed her by the arm and, once again, spoke again in his native tongue. She watched the giant wolf walking away, moving deeper into the Silent Forest without looking back. Now, she had something else to worry about.

Genghis Khan spoke again. This time, two of his combatants grabbed her and dragged her away without her knowing what would happen next.

She noticed the dead tree that had been struck by lightning. The flames had now been smothered, dissipated presumably by water.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


	11. Executioners

ELEVEN

EXECUTIONERS

* * *

Denin's mouth had never felt so dry. He slowed down on his long journey up the hill to ease the dehydration in progress. He only wished that he would find some water on this island. Everywhere he went, it looked like it hadn't rained for over a hundred years. He grew tired of seeing more dead trees and dusty dirt. But once he reached the top of the hill, he finally found different scenery that had nothing to do with parched nature.

Two gigantic statues had been built right on top of the hill. They were giant men carved in stone, but neither of them looked completely human. One had the head of an ox, while the other had the head of a horse. Both statues had swords raised up high while looking down at the floor with mischievous eyes. Denin couldn't look away. These two statues, despite standing absolutely still, had the look of two menacing barbarians looming over a fresh kill. And when he did look away, he spotted a small opening between the two statues. It was an open entrance that led somewhere down below the hilltop.

At first, curiosity led Denin to believe that he would make a startling discovery downstairs. But then, exploring unknown territory would have been dangerous, seeing as how the entire island had become perilously unpredictable. He kept his dagger in his hand while trying hard to make his decision. With only minimal defense, it would be a risky move to try and uncover the mystery surrounding the Land of a Thousand Scars.

But suddenly, he looked behind him to see where the distant howl came from. It was a familiar sound. It was the sound of a war cry used by the Mongols. Fortunately, it didn't sound like it would be nearby. But Denin immediately grew even more cautious. He stood in an open area where someone could spot him even from a far distance. He had to make a quick decision. He needed to hide from his enemies. He heard a second war cry, and this time, it had grown slightly louder than the first.

He made a dash for the open entrance. He ran down the stairs before making a full stop near the middle of the staircase. He could barely see anything in the long hallway situated right alongside the bottom of the stairs. The only thing he noticed was a metal torch lying beside a dead man. The torch didn't rely on fire. Instead, a glowing crystal had been implanted on the top of the torch. He had never seen such a crystal, nor did he ever have any knowledge of one.

Soon, the sound of a Mongol's howling had stopped. Denin looked up to see nobody taking a peek at what lurked beyond the open entrance. He didn't have time to feel relieved. He made it to the bottom of the stairs and grabbed the crystal torch. He crouched down and examined the dead body. The man lying on the floor continued to decompose. The horrendous smell made Denin stand up and move away. He used the torch to get a clearer view of the hallway in front of him. It was long and empty.

Denin knew what he had to do. He needed to find some answers. He needed to discover the truth of the Dragon Riders' whereabouts. Anything could have been found at the other end of the hallway. He had to be certain that it would be important. He made his quick decision. He made his way across the hallway, going deeper into unknown territory.

So far, the hallway itself didn't look too threatening. Denin grew a little less tense when he could only hear his own faint footsteps. He kept moving until one footstep sounded different like the others. He quickly looked down to see that he stepped on a puddle of black water on the floor. It came from a small crack on the wall. It dripped down and landed on the floor, which caused the puddle. Denin now had a little residue stuck on his boot. The puddle already made him return to a state of unease. He took a deep breath to calm himself down and tightened his grip on the torch.

He continued on through the hallway. When he made it to the other end, he finally discovered what lay in the darkness. It was an enormous dungeon, the entire interior shaped like a cylinder. Empty cages hung from the ceiling. The cells themselves were compact, not enough room for a person to even lay down. Moonlight had seeped through the holes on the ceiling and illuminated the underground prison. Even without the torch, Denin had an almost clear view of what lurked inside. So far, he didn't see any other human roaming around.

He went down the curved staircase and checked every open cell to see if anyone had been imprisoned. Everything had grown silent. It was as though this place had been abandoned many years ago. Denin, however, had his doubts. He caught the smell of something foul. It turned out to be an uncomfortable aroma that made him assume that more dead bodies could be found. This made him almost shiver with dread.

When he reached the bottom of the staircase, he stood in front of a partially open door at the other end of another hallway. He brandished his dagger and took it upon himself to finish this exploration for good. He took slow careful steps toward the door. The sound of his footsteps did little to keep him completely calm. As soon as he opened the door all the way, he used the torch to see what lay inside.

It was a room filled with tables and desks. It looked like a horrific sight. Trails of black liquid were smeared on the tables. Various knives and machetes hung on the walls. The smell of a human carcass remained strong. Denin looked everywhere to see if he could find some clues regarding Genghis Khan and the Dragon Riders. All he could find was the dark-colored residue on the tables. He did, however, stumble across several pieces of paper lying on the floor, right alongside what must have been a young boy's clothes.

Denin picked up the pieces of paper and set them down on one of the desks. He brought the torch closer to see if he could decipher the various drawings presumably by the one who did it. They were certainly a child's drawings, either done by paint or ink. The child's amateur formations had been done by the same black liquid that had been prevalent on this island. Denin paid close attention to the topic scribbled on each piece of paper.

One of them consisted of dragons destroying a village with either a lightning strike or a purple ball of fire erupting from their open mouths. Another one had a group of Mongols, albeit drawn very badly, wielding their weapons and charging at a group of men and women, the latter looking absolutely helpless while shedding their tears. This particular image made Denin tremble. He could only imagine the pain and suffering that this child went through while observing the most unthinkable crimes on this island.

The third piece of paper looked even more ominous than the other two. The child had drawn six human figures with various swords, axes, and spears in their hands. Denin had recognized them almost immediately. The Dragon Riders weren't drawn as the vivacious Vikings that Denin once knew. All of their faces had been covered with black paint. Their blond and brown hair had been changed to black. Even their clothes had been smeared by it. But the main reason why Denin knew them to be the Dragon Riders was because one of them didn't have a left foot. Denin looked closely to see that the child had drawn something else in place of Hiccup's prosthetic leg. It appeared to be the foot of a reptile. Denin remembered the footprints on the dirt. Now he had to be certain that they belonged to Hiccup, his own friend who was still nowhere to be seen. His curiosity also reached a higher level since he wanted to know what the reptilian foot really was.

The fourth piece of paper had the image of an animal walking on its two hind legs. It had the opposite look of a faun with its feline head and its human legs. Furthermore, it had red blood spilling out of its open mouth. It was an absolutely terrifying drawing. It may have been a very important clue. It could have been something who had a big influence on the people of this island.

The last piece of paper didn't contain a drawing. Instead, it had written words.

" _They want me dead. I am scared. I want to see Mom and Dad again._ "

Denin checked the other side of the paper. The child's last words said it all.

" _I hope Mom and Dad will find me in the dungeon._ "

Denin turned around to see if he could find anything else in this room. Within seconds, he spotted a book placed on another desk. He rolled up the drawings and put them in one of his pockets. He grabbed the book and checked the front cover. It was an ordinary hardcover, but with a strange-looking insignia on the front. He flipped open the book and checked the first few pages. Only one paragraph had been written on the first one. But Denin knew almost instantly who had written it. He recognized Hiccup's handwriting. It looked like the one-legged Viking had produced a brand new journal.

This time, the words weren't written in black oil. And it appeared neater than what Hiccup had written in his last moments as himself. And so far, Denin didn't like what he had just read.

Hiccup wrote:

" _These people are such a drag. They always scream for help when all we want to do is show them the truth. Unfortunately, none of them seem to be smart. They just don't want to listen to us. It's too bad. Now, they have to see what happens when they don't listen. The hordes of our father don't take no for an answer. But most importantly, our father never takes no for an answer. We all have a job to do. They will never scream for help anymore. Their blood is worthless. Their entire lives are worthless. They're completely worthless. This is why they'll never see daylight again. My friends think this is fun, and they're not really wrong. Blood is everywhere, and that's how it should be. This is what our father wants, and this is what he will get._ "

The rest of the journal remained blank.

From the corner of his eye, Denin caught sight of a dark and narrow entryway in the corner of the room. From what he had just read, the darkness became a terrifying concept. He began to feel goosebumps on his skin. He stopped himself from trembling as he set the journal down on the desk and moved closer to the dark entryway.

He stood right in front of it. He used his torch to see what he could find inside. The crystal's glow showed him another long and narrow hallway. He discovered more black stains smeared on both stone walls. Big blots, hand prints, and even scratch marks made the journey through the gloom more uncomfortable.

Both walls contained open prison cells that stood several feet away from each other. And much to his disgust, Denin had found more dead bodies in every open cell. Men, women, and children lay on the floor lifeless and slowly decomposing. They looked to have been the Romans who inhabited this island. The blood on their clothes made Denin absolutely certain that he would never enter any of these confined spaces.

He didn't stop. He delved deeper into this underground dungeon. Despite the long trails of blood on the floor, he had to stay composed. The silence was uncomfortable. There would be no way to stop himself from shivering with the thought of discovering a horrifying sight at the other end of the hallway. And when he did reach the other end, he found a large wooden door partially open.

He took a peek through the open space. It was a large chamber with three rows of pillars. He assumed that he spotted various ornaments hanging from the ceiling. He entered the chamber while keeping the door partially open. Upon closer inspection, owing to the torch and the moonlight seeping through the square-shaped holes on the ceiling, he had a much clearer view of whatever hung from the ceiling.

He left his mouth wide open. He couldn't blink. He couldn't even move.

They weren't ornaments. They were human bodies hanging upside down.

They were naked. Their feet had been bound with rope. A metal hook on a chain kept these corpses from dropping to the floor. At the bottom, blood seeped out of their mouths and a red puddle remained on the floor, right below every single body hanging from the ceiling. Some had buckets filled with blood to keep it from spilling over.

Denin had to cover his mouth with his hand. Whoever owned this dungeon had cut their victims' mouths and forced them to bleed to death upside down. The stench of it all made Denin want to flee the scene, but he still needed answers. There had to be more rooms constructed underneath the hills. He tried to ignore the human corpses and see if he could find anything else in this enormous chamber besides dead Romans.

But as he delved deeper into the chamber, all he could find were more pillars and more bodies. A few had been left in small iron cages hanging from the ceiling. They were children, and they didn't move at all. Denin had to look away. He could almost see the hopelessness that used to stay on their faces.

He felt so repulsed by this silent prison, but he immediately found something to keep his attention away from the children. The body of a clothed Mongol sat on the floor and leaned against the wall. Denin crouched down to get a closer look. He could easily recognize the body's place of origin just by its clothes, its masculine body armor. But what really drew his attention was the face, or rather the lack of one. The Mongol's face had been entirely blackened with black oil, as if a demonic shadow shrouded his identity. It was almost the same as the dead Viking found on the Isle of Berk, only this time, the liquid on the Mongol wasn't as thick. It had previously dripped down his armor.

The dead Mongol became a frightening image. In fact, the entire dungeon made Denin unsteady in the head. Every discovery didn't have anything to do with a more optimistic scenario. Only death and destruction made by the Mongol Empire remained in triumph. Denin held his breath for a moment. He could only hear the faint sound of the ropes and metal chains moving the bodies around ever so slightly.

And then, he heard the sound of metal scratching against metal somewhere in the distance.

Denin stood still. He tried hard to hear if a possible intruder confirmed its intentional welcome. At first, it grew silent again. But Denin almost gasped as he heard another sound of clashing metal that could have come from the spiral staircase. The faint echo made him reach down to his belt and touch the hilt of his dagger.

He turned around and gazed at the partially open entrance at the other end of the chamber. It looked empty. But a high-pitched two-note whistling sound made him believe that someone was already on his way in. Whoever whistled must have been a hundred feet away, but the echo made it seem louder than it should have been. The new intruder continued to whistle two notes.

Denin placed the crystal torch on the ground and left it alone. It would have given his position away if he managed to find a hiding spot. He tiptoed across the room and hid behind one of the pillars. He took a peek to see if the partially open entrance experienced any changes to its original presentation. It stayed the same so far.

The whistling suddenly stopped. Footsteps replaced it as the brand new sound that Denin didn't want to hear. Someone's boots started as a faint noise before gradually moving on to a crescendo.

Denin had to think fast. He moved and hid behind another pillar, one that was further away from the entrance. The dead bodies in the chamber would soon become an afterthought if the unknown intruders made it so.

Denin peeked from behind the pillar. The moonlight managed to brighten the entrance. He could see no one yet. The slow-moving footsteps grew louder. Denin's heartbeat grew faster. He grabbed his dagger and pulled it out of his belt. He kept it close with a tight grip.

The footsteps stopped. Denin waited to see what happened next.

He heard a young woman's playful voice.

"Who's in here?"

It was almost a whisper. Denin could almost recognize the voice.

She continued with a mischievous yet petrifying tone of voice. "We're here to get you."

Denin looked away and stood still behind the pillar.

He could hear the door beginning to open, its old wood making a loud creaking noise.

The room grew darker. Something far more demonic could have infiltrated the premises. Instead, Denin looked up and saw that the full moon began to hide behind a cloud. He held his breath as it completed its invisibility. The entire chamber was covered in darkness. Only the torch left on the ground illuminated a small fraction of the interior.

Without making any noise, Denin took a peek. The light only caught the image of the dead Mongol.

The footsteps didn't stop. This time, Denin heard another man's hoarse voice. It was a deep one, something that demonstrated an ominous presence.

"Someone is here. Let's have some fun."

Denin recognized the voice. It was Snotlout's voice.

He wanted to show himself for them to see that it was only a friend. He resisted, however. He couldn't forget all of Hiccup's manuscripts, with no hope surrounding the details of his whereabouts. A little brainwashing could have been in effect.

The female voice drew nearer. Her playful sarcasm showed in her words. "I wonder who's in here."

Denin knew that voice. It belonged to Astrid.

There would be no doubt that the Dragon Riders of Berk had entered the dungeon and searched for the intruder. Denin crouched down and waited for the exact moment to move away. He previously spotted another open entrance on the other side of the room that led to somewhere. He could no longer hear any footsteps. He moved to see what was behind the pillar, and he immediately pulled his head back. The image of a shadowy figure standing behind the crystal torch made Denin make a decision in a split second. He couldn't see who it was, though he did have an immediate understanding of who it used to be.

Denin crouched down and prepared to tiptoe toward the second entrance. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He didn't shiver with fear, though he felt like he should. He began to tiptoe with his dagger still in his hand. He hid behind another pillar and waited until someone made a noise.

Absolute silence had a temporary hold in the dungeon.

Denin moved again. He was only approximately fifty feet away from the entryway. He moved from pillar to pillar. All of a sudden, a loud noise prevented him from moving forward. It sounded like a metal banging against metal. He still saw nothing but darkness.

He heard Astrid proclaim, "You can't leave us. We know we will win."

The chamber grew brighter. Denin looked up to see that the full moon made its return in the sky. The same loud noise erupted and echoed across the chamber. Denin continued to tiptoe across. He finally made it into the open entryway. Thanks to the moonlight coming from the ceiling, he now had a good view of the new corridor that he had just entered. He looked behind him to see that no one had followed him so far. He stayed close to the wall as he delved deeper into the corridor.

He slid his hands across the wall. Suddenly, he stepped on something slimy. He looked down and found another puddle of black liquid on the floor.

He had no time to examine it, since the Dragon Riders' footsteps grew faster and louder. He didn't want to look back at the open entrance. He began to make a dash for it.

He could hear Snotlout cry out, "We're coming to get you!"

Denin found himself in front of two different hallways, one of the left and one on the right. He took the one on the left. He didn't care if his own footsteps gave his position away. He just wanted to leave as fast as possible.

He found another T-shaped corridor and quickly decided to turn to the right. He pushed open the wooden door in front of him and ran down a flight of stairs. And when he reached the bottom, he stopped and froze. The crystal torches hanging on the wall revealed what he just discovered in this enormous room. There was a constant squishing noise that echoed all across the room. Denin couldn't tell how many maggots had infested this place. But he had a good idea how many dead human bodies lay on the floor and on the tables. There were at least one dozen wooden tables, and many dead men and women either lay lifeless on top of them or below them. The naked corpses had nothing but hundreds of maggots feeding on their decomposing skin and flesh. The stench almost made Denin want to hurl, though he didn't eat anything all day and night.

Denin turned around when he heard the sound of more footsteps from the top of the stairs. Now, improvisation was the key to survival. He grabbed a blanket from the floor and crawled underneath one of the long tables situated in the corner. Since there were numerous other blankets piled beneath him, there would be a good chance that the Riders of Berk would never detect him when he hid in that exact spot. In addition, he would be hiding in the darkness, since the light from the torches were non-existent in where he began to hide.

Now, he waited. He lay flat on his stomach as he hid underneath the blanket. He lifted up a small portion of the sheet to see the bottom of the stairs. He heard someone's footsteps as they descended into the same room. But the pattern was different. It sounded like someone had a boot on one foot and something much larger on the other. Hiccup was here.

Denin tried to ignore the abominable odor and see who entered the room. The footsteps increased in volume. They were slow, but also frightening to the human ear. Denin held his breath. He began to see someone else's right leg touching the last step on the stairs. It appeared to be normal, but once the other leg joined in, something was different about it. Somehow, Hiccup had a left foot again. But this time, it didn't look like a human foot. Instead, it was a foot that could have belonged to a mutated reptile. It had oily scales and sharp claws.

Denin's eyes widened. Hiccup drew closer into the room. His slow and patient movement made Denin even more anxious. He watched Hiccup's two feet moving from one place to the other. The uneven sound of his footsteps made it much more unsettling. Denin tightened his grip on his dagger. Hiccup stepped closer to his hiding spot.

He stopped right in front of the table. Denin couldn't help but stare at Hiccup's reptilian foot. He waited to see what would happen next. Hiccup didn't move a muscle. Denin wanted to lift up his blanket and see Hiccup's face, but he didn't want to risk exposure. He kept his sight on the Viking's partial transformation.

Hiccup finally moved away. Denin watched him walk back up the stairs. The lack of a shadow on the floor proved that he exited the room altogether.

Denin wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but the stench forced him to suppress his reprieve for now. He could hear a few flies roaming around. He looked from left to right. All of the bodies on the floor kept on decomposing. All but one. A young woman lay lifeless in a corner. Her skin looked clean and untouched by time. Her blank stare made it seem as if she gazed at the new intruder.

Denin didn't waste any time. He tossed the blanket away and crawled out of his hiding spot. He tiptoed up the stairs and reached the open door. He picked up speed and ran across the corridor. He remembered where he was. He made sure he made the right turns. He didn't look behind him. He only had one chance to leave this place. He drew quicker breaths and ignored the growing soreness on his feet. He returned to the chamber with the hanging bodies. He didn't have time to hide behind pillars. He just made a hurry toward the correct route for an escape.

All of a sudden, something swift moved right past him in the air. It hit a pillar and fell to the floor. It was an arrow. Someone had already spotted him, but he didn't care. He made it to the first entrance. He hurried past the room with Hiccup's journal and ran up the spiral staircase. He kept his spirits up even as the footsteps from behind him didn't stop.

He heard Snotlout scream, "You can't stop it!"

It was followed by a laugh that sounded almost psychotic.

Denin finally found himself outside with the two giant anthropomorphic statues hovering over him. He didn't stop. He ran through the forest filled with dead trees. He still didn't look behind him as he thought it to be completely worthless during a crucial moment in his life. The path in front of him led to more dead trees and dry bushes. Regardless, he needed to keep going. He never felt so tense before.

From a distance, Astrid cried out, "You can't run from us!"

Another arrow shot right past him and struck a tree. He had no time to see where it hit. He also had no time to see where he fell. He slipped on the edge of a small precipice. He lost his balance and began to roll down a hillside. The entire world seemed to whirl with lightning speed. Every part of his body bumped into the dirt floor.

He finally landed at the bottom of the hill, right next to a gigantic dead log laying on the floor. He stood up and looked around. He found himself surrounded by huge boulders. He looked up and spotted someone's shadow at the top of the hill.

He couldn't react to it, simply because of someone preventing him. Someone from behind him covered his mouth with a hand and pulled him closer to a dark spot near the boulders. Whoever dragged him into the darkness made it impossible for him to escape the stranger's grasp.

The person behind him whispered, "Don't move and don't speak."

Denin no longer struggled. He recognized the voice right away. He turned around to see Stoick the Vast as normal as he could be. Nothing about him showed any harm to his body or spirit. Denin couldn't bring himself to feel so worried about it. The older Viking demanded that he stay low to the ground. He and Denin stayed in a small opening beneath the boulders. It would be so dark that not even the Riders of Berk would have a chance to find it.

Stoick whispered, "They will be here. Don't do anything."

The two of them lay beside each other on the floor. Denin caught the sound of a twig snapping not far from here. He kept his eyes on the open forest in front of him, with the full moon giving him an ample opportunity to see everything near and far.

A shadow appeared from the left. Denin and Stoick froze. They spotted another human being in the distance. The reptilian foot made him easily recognizable. Hiccup held a crystal torch in his hand and a sword in the other. He began to look around. He didn't seem to catch sight of the two other Vikings hiding under the boulders. Nevertheless, his more antagonistic figure somehow didn't match his original personality.

Denin now had a clear view of his friend. Hiccup didn't even show his face. He wore a mask, colorful but petrifying. It resembled the face of a wild feline. His entire apparel signified a more Oriental exterior, an entirely Mongolian appearance.

Hiccup stood still for a few more seconds until he slowly turned around and walked away. Denin and Stoick no longer caught sight of him. Everything went silent again. The escape from the dungeon had been completely worth it.

Denin whispered to Stoick, "What happens next?"

Stoick kept his eyes on the open forest in front of him. "We wait a little longer. And then, we leave."

Denin noticed a look of concern on Stoick's face. "What's happening here?"

Stoick replied, "Just wait. I will tell you later."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


	12. Good & Evil

TWELVE

GOOD AND EVIL

* * *

Reverix the Viking had to stay quiet. The small battalion that was entirely comprised of Mongols drew closer to the deserted village. Reverix kept the front door partially open as he stayed in one of the stone cottages. He and his comrades couldn't risk an easy and straightforward charge towards the enemy. The Mongols had a better understanding when dealing with carnage. Their lifelong passion made them more invulnerable in their new surroundings.

Reverix looked away from the partially open door and checked to see if Furlock the Gaul and Anton the Bulgarian kept their handheld weapons close.

Anton never let go of his scythe. "So how do we do this, captain?"

Reverix whispered, "The only thing we can do is show them that we will die fighting."

Furlock didn't look too amused. "And what happens _after_ they kill us?"

Reverix had no answer for that. Instead, he replied, "Just wait until I give the signal to attack."

He looked back through the open door. There must have been at least two dozen Mongols marching toward the village that the pirates had temporarily occupied in the middle of a mountainside. More and more dead trees had inhabited the entire area. Reverix had grown sick and tired of seeing these repetitive images on this island. But he didn't have time to linger in this type of annoyance.

The Mongols drew closer. Most of them carried crystal torches in their hands. One of them yelled something in his native tongue. Reverix couldn't understand what he had just said, nor did he care at all. He waited for the perfect moment to launch a concentrated ambush.

But suddenly, another Mongol pointed at something to the left of them. He shouted one word before everyone else turned to the left and raised their weapons. Reverix couldn't see who the Mongol pointed at, but it certainly did alarm them at an excessive rate. Reverix could see a few arrows coming from the left. Only one hit a Mongol in the arm. The entire battalion raised their spears and swords before they charged at those that Reverix could not see in his perspective.

Furlock asked, "What's going on out there?"

Reverix could hear the Mongol cries completing a decrescendo, followed by the sounds of swords and spears clashing against each other.

Anton leaned in and whispered, "It appears that we are about to make some new friends."

Reverix replied, "We have to wait a little longer."

The battle cries continued for a little while longer. It took only one minute for everything to grow silent again.

Reverix slowly pushed the front door wide open. "It appears to be safe for now."

Anton tapped him on the shoulder. "I'll go see what happened."

Reverix stepped aside and let the Bulgarian out of the stone cottage, with his scythe still by his side. He and Furlock watched him sneak across the village and disappear behind another cottage. They waited for a few minutes until Anton returned from the same route that he had taken.

He informed his captain that he had just witnessed another group examining the dead Mongols sprawled on the floor. They looked to have been a group of Vikings who initiated the frontal assault.

Reverix grew curious. "Did you recognize any of them?"

Anton shook his head. "I don't recall meeting any of them in person. But one of them did appear rather interesting."

"Who?"

"He's a tall fellow with black dreadlocks. And I'm not too sure, but it looked like his left arm is missing."

Reverix instantly knew who it was. He stood up. "I think it's time we meet him."

Furlock asked, "Are there any Mongols who survived?"

Anton chuckled. "These Vikings did their jobs very well. I must say that we might become good friends."

Reverix remained patient. "You may be wrong."

He didn't have time to explain. He, Furlock, and Anton exited the stone cottage together. Reverix used his fist to signal the rest of his comrades, all of whom hid inside the other deserted cottages. He led them out of the village and into the direction of where the skirmish took place. With a clear view of the slaughter, Reverix noticed the same group of Vikings that Anton had described. Their leader stood with pride as he surveyed the damage that he and his fellow Vikings had caused.

Reverix called out, "Hello, Drago!"

Drago Bludvist's men immediately stopped with their duties and raised their weapons. Drago, on the other hand, remained unaffected by the intruders' sudden entrance. His strict and ominous stare didn't change.

Reverix brought up his hands. "We are not your enemy."

From behind, the other pirates were ready to attack if a misunderstanding took place. But Drago didn't do anything. He didn't smile, but he did keep his vigilance strong.

He asked, "Who are you?"

Reverix had only one proper response. "My name is Reverix. I am a friend of Stoick the Vast."

"And what makes you think that I will not kill you right away?"

"Because we are clearly not here for battle. We are not interested in causing trouble. We are here to find my friends."

Drago stepped closer. Several of Reverix's comrades raised their weapons, but he signaled them to lower them again.

"Stoick has told me many things about you."

Drago narrowed his eyes. "Has he?"

Reverix nodded. "Yes, and I think it's best that we don't complicate things further. If you've visited this island long enough, then I can only assume that a truce is better off. A confrontation between us is meaningless."

"You shouldn't be here."

"I had no choice. I saw everything in the Isle of Berk. The village is left in ruins. Stoick, Valka, and Hiccup are nowhere to be seen. A map has brought us here, and we have many questions that have to be answered."

"It has become very dangerous here."

"Does it have anything to do with a dragon named Voriak?"

"There is no such creature that lurks in this island."

"We have seen plenty of black water around here."

"It's not Voriak's blood. It never was."

Barclay the Celt asked, "Then whose blood is it?"

Before Drago could say anything, one of his own men called out. It appeared that one of the Mongols survived. Two Vikings dragged him by the arms and brought him to their leader. Drago and the pirates could see that the Mongol soldier was very young, perhaps nineteen or twenty years old.

Drago let out a slow sigh. "My dreams have been tarnished. I can longer become what I'm destined to be."

Reverix scoffed. "Yes, Stoick told me all about that."

Drago stepped closer to the Mongol survivor. "It's all because of that tyrant from the East. He made me lose everything. I had many dragons in my reign. And he took them away from me."

The young Mongol looked absolutely frightened. Drago clenched his fist. "I despise him. He has set out to do what I should have done in the past."

He unsheathed his sword. "He knows how it works. The blood is unstoppable. No one can escape it. The Riders of Berk will never escape it. It's a sickness."

He raised his sword up high. The young Mongol's eyes widened, but he didn't have time to beg for forgiveness. Drago struck his neck with his sword, and now the Mongol no longer had a head. It rolled not far from its original body. The corpse lay flat on his stomach, motionless.

The younger pirates had to look away for a moment, while a few others didn't even flinch.

Drago informed his men that their work here was done. Now, they had another objective to complete for the rest of the night.

He turned to the Reverix and said, "You're always welcome to join us."

Reverix asked, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get rid of him."

"Who? Genghis Khan?"

"No, I'm going to get rid of the one who started all of this."

"Are you sure it's not Voriak?"

Drago was now irritated. "I have seen him. He looks nothing like Voriak."

"If we were to join forces, what will convince me that I should trust someone like you?"

"Because I am no longer the most dangerous man in the world."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


	13. Breaking Point

THIRTEEN

BREAKING POINT

* * *

They tried desperately to escape, but they failed to do so. They were afraid. They didn't want to die on this night, but the one-legged Viking had his intentions. They knew it, and they didn't want to have anything to do with it. As they realized that their deaths would be inevitable as soon as the Viking raised his axe, they held each other's hands and waited for the strike.

But someone arose from the dead forest and made a fast and aggressive charge toward the gang of Vikings who kept their two young hostages in fear. Once he spotted his old friend, Stoick the Vast couldn't give him a chance to give in to his hatred. He sprinted as fast as he could and stopped just in time for his friend to be interrupted by this unexpected visitor.

"Gobber, stop!"

Stoick had to be careful when dealing with Gobber and his five acquaintances. They stood right on the edge of a cliff, with the base appearing to be at least one mile deep. Stoick ignored the other five Vikings who raised their axes and hammers in case of an attack. He could see the confusion and fierce determination in their eyes.

"He knows me. I am his friend."

They still didn't lower their weapons, but that didn't matter. Stoick just didn't want Gobber to lose his mind, even if it already happened just one day ago.

Gobber looked absolutely demented. The two Mongolian teenagers sat on their knees, stunned at the sudden intrusion that could have set off a break in Gobber's new pattern. The boy and girl still held each other's hands, making them look like a young couple ready for some unnecessary trauma in their lives. Stoick couldn't blame them for feeling so frightened.

He kept calm as he said, "Let them go, Gobber. They're not worth it."

Gobber narrowed his eyes. His loss of common sense seemed complete at this time. "How can I trust you? How can I be sure that you didn't drink his blood?"

"Trust me. I'm not on their side. I'm still your friend."

Gobber started to growl. "Then who is that behind you?"

Stoick turned around to see Denin stepping a little closer with a dagger in his hand. Stoick used his hand as a signal to put away his weapon immediately.

"He's one of us. He is Reverix's nephew. You remember Reverix, don't you?"

Gobber didn't respond to that specific question. Instead, he said, "Don't stop me. This has to be done."

He grabbed the female teenager's neck.

Stoick took another few steps forward. "They didn't do anything to you. They're not the ones we have to look for."

Gobber growled again. "It doesn't matter anymore. You've seen what happened in this island. This is our only chance to fight back."

In a slow movement, he raised his axe and drew it closer to the Mongolian teenager's neck. "If it means eliminating every descendant on this island, then I am willing to be the one to make it happen."

The teenage Mongol still tried to escape Gobber's grasp, but her struggle proved meaningless as she could only gaze at the slow-moving axe with complete dread. The sharp edge of the axe had touched the skin on her face.

Gobber seemed to chuckle with amusement. "I have learned that happiness is only achieved by bloodshed."

Stoick had to stay calm, even if he wanted to kick that axe away from Gobber's hand. "You don't know what you're talking about. You need more time to relax and see that you are dealing with innocent people."

"There are no innocent people on this island."

Gobber pressed the axe against the young Mongol's face. She gasped, as she must have felt a stinging sensation. The skin hadn't been pierced just yet, however, and Stoick kept his eyes on a possible wound waiting to emerge.

"Put the axe down, Gobber."

Gobber didn't obey. "You're in denial. I can see it in your eyes."

"Just put your axe down and no one will get hurt. We don't need to make things worse."

"Stop it, Stoick. You can't save them. You can't save _him_."

Stoick almost held his breath.

Gobber showed off his most sadistic smile yet. "Don't lie to yourself. He's no longer your son."

He pressed the axe against the Mongol's skin even deeper. This time, a thin trial of blood burst out of a newly made puncture on her chin.

Stoick stepped even closer. "Don't do it."

Gobber's laugh was spine-chilling. "I'm sorry, but you can't stop me. I have the freedom to end it all."

Suddenly, Stoick charged right at him. He pulled the axe right off the young Mongol's face and threw it down on the dirt floor.

"Snap out of it, Gobber!"

The other Vikings began to lunge at Stoick and try to pull him away. Stoick ignored them and kept a firm grip on Gobber's clothes. He mustered all his strength to push the Mongol teenager away from Gobber's hands.

"Stop right now!"

Gobber didn't stop laughing like a lost soul. He and his Vikings spent their time pushing this intruder away from their own danger zone.

Meanwhile, Denin could do nothing but watch the anarchy unfold between old friends. He would have tried to help Stoick, but the other Vikings would prove to be a threat if Gobber had done his damage on this island for the sake of the gods.

Stoick didn't let go of Gobber, even if the other Vikings tried to pull him away. He needed to bring Gobber back to reality. He needed him to leave this island without a hint of impairment in either his heart or soul.

Suddenly, a recognizable roar in the distance made him gaze at the cliffs behind Gobber. He could see clouds and dead trees surrounding each mountainside. And in just a few seconds, a shadowy figure emerged from one of the clouds and spread its wings wide before making a quick charge at its enemy. Stoick's eyes widened. Even if it only lasted for a few seconds, he could still decipher the shape of Toothless the dragon and its rider, who wielded his sword and held it high.

Stoick grabbed Gobber by the shoulders. "Get down!"

He brought Gobber and the Mongol teenager down to the ground and lay flat on his stomach. He watched as Toothless swept across the cliff with quick speed. He could feel a soft breeze brought upon by the dragon's swift movement. He also had the time to see the rider pointing his sword straight down and taking his next victim. It had happened so fast that Stoick couldn't even see his son's mask as he and Toothless disappeared into the forest.

One of the other Vikings screamed. Stoick turned to see him with a new mark on his head. A straight black line had been formed at the top of the head and ended right between his eyes. Blood poured out of his new wound. Stoick realized that Hiccup had sliced through the Viking's head and split it in two. The screaming Viking collapsed on the floor and ended with a silent twitching all over his body.

Gobber yelled, "Arm yourselves!"

He and the other Vikings stood up and brandished their weapons, ranging from axes to hammers. Stoick could see Denin wielding his dagger as he looked straight ahead at the darkened forest. The Viking with the split head no longer screamed and lay motionless in a puddle of his own blood.

Stoick, Gobber, Denin, and the other anticipated another strike from Hiccup and Toothless. Everything went silent once more. They waited for the dragon to roar.

Gobber shouted at the forest, "Show yourself, Hiccup! We're ready for anything!"

Stoick stepped closer. "Gobber, no! I want him alive."

"We can't let that happen."

"Don't you dare kill my son! Remember what he has done back home."

Gobber growled. "All I can remember is what he has done on this island."

Stoick opened his mouth but couldn't say anything after what he had heard from Gobber just now.

Suddenly, Toothless roared again in the darkness. The Vikings didn't have time to assess the situation, seeing as how Toothless emerged for the second time and soared right above them. The same sword that killed the first Viking had returned. And this time, it claimed another victim. It sliced open another Viking's neck. She gurgled blood from out of her mouth and out of her neck before she fell to the floor.

Gobber yelled, "You can't scare me, Hiccup!"

Toothless turned around and made its third charge official. Stoick, however, could see Hiccup standing up from his saddle, and as soon as Toothless flew right past them, Hiccup jumped right off and landed near the group of Vikings.

The two Mongol teenagers made a dash for the forest and never looked back. The Vikings had already forgotten about them.

Stoick, Gobber, and Denin stayed close as Hiccup stood up straight and wielded his sword, which was already drenched with blood from top to bottom. Hiccup's reptilian foot, as well as his tiger-shaped mask and overall oriental attire, remained the same. He didn't say anything just yet. He stood like a calm but ominous assassin ready to see his enemies bleed.

Gobber gritted his teeth. "Don't intimidate us like that."

With three acquaintances left, he ran right for Hiccup. The other three were right behind him. Stoick and Denin stayed away. Gobber raised his axe high, but Hiccup moved fast. A quick decision prompted him to swing his sword and injure Gobber on the arm. Gobber almost collapsed as he dropped his axe and applied the right pressure to his new wound.

Hiccup had his eyes on the three acquaintances who surrounded him. One of them immediately raised his hammer. But the man in the mask made his retaliation seem easy. He swung his sword right at the incoming Viking, who had to step away for a moment before joining his other two companions for their simultaneous attack.

Stoick and Denin had to watch with amazement. Hiccup did everything he could to avoid the hammer and the axes that came his way. The three acquaintances made it appear that Hiccup would have trouble protecting himself against those who were forced to become his opponents. But then, he managed to prove that theory unreliable. He swung his sword at all three of them many times. They couldn't raise their weapons any longer. They fell to the floor and lay lifeless.

Gobber managed to stand up and ignore the wound on his arm. He raised his axe, but Hiccup brought it down with his own sword.

Stoick could see Hiccup about to strike Gobber without hesitation. He yelled, "Stop!"

Hiccup immediately turned his head and delayed his attack.

Stoick waited for a reply, but his son didn't say a word. Instead, the chief had to stay calm even if Gobber narrowed his eyes at him.

"Hiccup, please. Don't kill him."

Gobber growled. "You're only encouraging him."

Stoick couldn't see anything behind Hiccup's mask. He had hoped he could at least see his son's eyes, but they were shrouded in darkness.

"Hiccup, please. Listen to your father. You don't have to do this."

Gobber blurted, "Are you crazy?!"

It made his blood boil, but Stoick tried hard not to lose his temper. "Hiccup needs help. We can bring him back."

Hiccup stood frozen. It was as if he anticipated a hidden motive from Stoick.

Gobber suddenly grabbed Hiccup from behind and hurled him to the ground. "It's no use, Stoick! He's mine!"

Hiccup kicked him in the shoulder. That didn't stop Gobber from punching him in the stomach.

Stoick was about to pull them apart, but then he saw something from above. Several arrows emerged from the forest. Their launch resulted in a swooping arc in the air. But what caught Stoick's attention were the fiery tips on all of them.

"No!"

He ran toward Hiccup, drag him off the ground, and pull him further into the forest and away from the fiery arrows. Gobber and Denin, after noticing the incoming projectiles, quickly followed Stoick from behind. All four of them managed to move out of the way and avoid the arrows, which landed in the exact same spot where they all once stood. They made it with only two seconds to spare.

Stoick knew that various people in the forest had already chosen Hiccup as their target. He kept his son close. But Hiccup already moved away from them to pick up his sword in the distance.

Stoick followed him. "Run, Hiccup! Don't let them burn you alive!"

Hiccup looked at him in silence, as if confused as to why this stranger didn't want him dead.

Stoick was now desperate. "Don't attack! Just run! Please!"

After a few seconds of no motion, Hiccup finally turned around and made a run for it. His swift jump off the cliff was followed by a dragon's roar. Stoick watched as Hiccup made a safe landing on Toothless. Both dragon and rider departed and disappeared into the night.

Gobber stood up and pushed Stoick with aggression. "You are an idiot! You just let a heartless renegade loose into the wild."

"He's my son, and you know it."

"Oh, yes. Keep telling yourself that."

Gobber's sarcastic tone almost put a dent in Stoick's composure. The one-legged Viking turned around and ran in the opposite direction.

"I'll put an end to this, and you can't stop me!"

Denin sounded confused. "Shouldn't we stop him?"

Stoick shook his head. "We can't do anything about it."

They watched as Gobber vanished in the dead forest.

But on the other side of the forest, a large group consisting of Vikings and other different individuals emerged out of the woods and showed themselves. Stoick could only recognize two of them: Drago and Reverix.

Denin seemed so delighted to see them again. "I'm so glad to see you again!"

He ran up to those who were the same age as his: three other pirates originating from three different countries. Stoick was less than pleased to see Drago again. He ran right for Drago, grabbed him by his shoulders, and pushed him against a tree. Almost everyone was surprised to see such an aggressive reaction.

Stoick looked straight into Drago's eyes and made his intentions clear. "Now, you listen to me. You will never dare to attack my son. You will stay away from him, and you if it's ever possible, you will help me take him back. Do you understand me?"

Drago didn't seem fazed by Stoick's anger. "I have no choice. The Dragon Riders are now a threat to this world."

"Just do as I say!"

"Do not make this harder than it should be."

Reverix stepped in. "I'm sorry to barge in, but I think it's best we leave this place. The Dragon Riders may return soon. My friends and I still don't know what they are capable of, but we have a good feeling that it isn't charming at all."

Drago nodded. "That is the only good option."

Stoick didn't look away. "That will only happen if you promise me to stay away from them."

"I can't promise you that."

Stoick turned around. "Then I will go my own way."

Reverix stopped him. "You can't go out there alone. We can help you. I care about Hiccup as well. We can work together and rescue him."

Stoick stopped. "Is that a promise?"

"Yes. But first, you must tell us what is happening. Everything about this island is a little puzzling to us."

Stoick looked back at Drago, whose expression didn't change.

The Chief of Berk ultimately replied, "Anyone who wants my son alive follow me."

He left the area without questioning. Everyone watched him move deeper into the forest.

Denin remarked, "Well, I think it's fairly obvious."

He left the entire group behind and started to follow Stoick. Reverix and the other pirates did the same. Both Denin and Reverix looked back to see Drago unmoved by the mass migration. He and his comrades just stood still as Stoick led everyone else to a different location.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


	14. Escape The Beast

FOURTEEN

ESCAPE THE BEAST

* * *

Zeema the Egyptian had grown tired of walking in the forest. She couldn't tell how long the Mongols kept her captive, but she wished they would make her stop and rest for at least a little while. Three Mongol soldiers had bound her hands and dragged her with a piece of rope. They didn't stop. They held their torches high and led way deeper into the forest. She could only assume that they would bring her to a fortress or a prison. Regardless, all she could see in front of her was more dead trees and dry dirt. She wanted to say something, but she knew that the Mongols would just ignore her. Seeing as how the three of them kept speaking to each other in their native language, there would be no point for Zeema to try to reason with them.

As they continued to drag her into the forest, she spotted something in the distance. At first, it appeared to be a few branches scattered all around a small area. But as she and the Mongols drew closer and walked right past it, Zeema was almost speechless. The branches turned out to be various body parts, clearly from a few human beings. Arms and legs, as well as several organs lay in a puddle of black liquid. No red blood could be seen amidst the dark puddle. This spectacle reminded her of the Viking massacre that she and the other pirates had found after leaving the village. She wished she could cover her nose from the stench. At this point, she couldn't tell if the black liquid was oil or the blood of a dragon. No one had the right information and she could only believe anything that was absolute.

The Mongols remained silent about the carnage. They continued to drag Zeema deeper into the forest.

One of them turned around and said to Zeema, "Do not be afraid. That will not happen to you."

Zeema just had to ask, "How did they die?"

"I cannot tell you. You have to see for yourself."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Shut up."

The Mongol couldn't speak again as he suddenly screamed. It took Zeema just a split second to notice the arrow that pierced through his neck. He collapsed, leaving the other two Mongols to wield their swords and observe the surroundings. They remained attentive while Zeema quickly looked around to see where the arrow had come from.

Another arrow shot right past the Mongols. Zeema ducked down and laid flat on the dirt floor. The Mongols dropped their crystal torches, gave their terrifying war cry, and made a dash for it. Zeema looked to see a shadowy figure in the distance that ran right towards the Mongols. Both of them raised their swords and swung them right at it. But the shadowy figure attacked with quick speed. It sliced through both men in seconds. They fell to the floor and lay lifeless.

Zeema stood up and picked up one of the torches. The shadowy figure stepped closer. The light revealed the face of a woman, gorgeous and mature. She had brown hair and wore a sleeveless shirt. Her sword had been newly drenched in blood from the tip to the hilt. Zeema calmed down for now. The attacker seemed like the sort of woman she would trust, especially when she struck down their newest mortal enemies.

She cut through Zeema's rope with her sword and helped unbind her hands. "Tell me who you are."

Zeema gave her name. "I am a part of a faction made for the sea. Reverix the Viking is my leader."

The other woman raised her eyebrows. "Reverix is here?"

Zeema nodded. "Do you know him?"

"He is one of my husband's best friends."

"Who are you?"

"Valka is my name."

"What is happening here?"

"My worst nightmare."

Zeema looked around the forest to see if any other Mongol would emerge for an ambush. She could only see more dead trees in the partial darkness. The full moon kept both women from being enveloped in the heart of the night.

Zeema proclaimed, "I have so many questions, but I can't just start with one."

Valka left the scene with Zeema right behind her. The Viking replied, "I can understand the confusion when first stepping foot on this island."

"What happened to the Romans?"

"They're all dead."

"I figured that's what Genghis Khan would want."

"He is a menace. And what's worse, his plans are working."

"I have to find Reverix. We've been on this island since this afternoon, and we-"

Valka stopped and became motionless. She whispered, "Listen."

Zeema paid attention to the current surroundings. She could hear something faint in the distance. It sounded like giant footsteps.

Zeema's eyes widened. "I think I know what that is."

She could only think of one gigantic beast that roamed freely on this island. "Have you seen a canine that is fifty feet tall?"

Valka's tone of voice grew solemn. "You've seen him before?"

"We had an interesting encounter not too long ago."

The distant footsteps didn't change volume and remained as faint as it could be.

Valka whispered, "Unfortunately, I've known him for a much longer time."

"What is he? What sort of wolf would stand on two feet and be as tall as a tower?"

"He has a very interesting history on this island."

Valka continued on in her intended path, with Zeema following from behind. They looked in all directions, feeling more cautious when the distant footsteps didn't change in volume. They did not still spot any potential enemies in the forest, regardless of what they turned out to be.

Valka walked a little faster. "His name is Ketakor, and he is a Goromo Wolf. He defends against intruders who set foot on this island."

"I didn't think Genghis Khan would be the boss of that thing."

"He is not Khan's. He is possessed by someone else."

"By who?"

"The question is, 'by _what_ '. Genghis Khan stole our children, so we don't know how."

"I think I have an idea."

Valka suddenly stopped and turned around with a look of fierce determination. "Tell me."

"It hasn't been confirmed. But I did hear from one of my comrades that a dragon named Voriak may have had something to do with it. His blood could be poisoning your son at this very moment. Tell me something. Have you seen the black oil…or black blood that's on this island?"

"I have seen plenty of it."

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sure it has to have something to do with Voriak."

"I'm not too sure. There has never been a dragon on this island ever since we set foot on it."

"Maybe his body is gone, but his blood lives on."

Valka looked away. "I know what you mean. Hiccup has seen the blood. He…"

"What?"

Valka's tone of voice was more solemn than before. "You cannot imagine the horrifying feeling of seeing your own son writhing in agony. No parent should ever see what Stoick and I had seen."

Zeema didn't want to say anything else. She did, however, notice that the distant stomping had stopped. Everything in the forest fell silent again. Crickets didn't chirp. The branches didn't sway. Only the sounds of their breathing reached their ears. Zeema began to feel a little uneasy. With no one else in sight, she feared the worst that could happen.

Valka whispered, "Tell me, Zeema. Has Ketakor ever tried to devour you?"

"I don't think so. He had already filled his belly by the time he had captured me."

"When did that happen?"

"I don't know. Perhaps an hour ago, maybe less. Why?"

"He's going to feed again."

"How can you tell?"

"I know how hungry he can be. He tried to make me his dinner once. Fortunately, I made my escape."

"That's good."

"Of course, he can't see me…but he can still smell me."

"I don't like where this is going."

Valka's eyes denoted concern. "He has been looking for me for quite a while. He has already chosen me as one of his meals, and he will never give up the pursuit."

"What have you done to upset Ketakor so much?"

"I tried to take my son back."

Suddenly, the two of them heard something in the distance. It sounded like a small rock falling from above. They turned around to see someone standing on a boulder not very far away. He was close enough for Zeema and Valka to recognize his apparel and his face.

Zeema raised her eyebrows. Genghis Khan just stood there with a silent but ominous look on his face. He had the perfect look of a tyrant, his oriental garbs appearing to fit his persona quite well. He raised his fist and shouted something in his native tongue.

On the other side of the forest, a rumbling noise could be heard. Followed by the growing volume of giant footsteps. Zeema turned around and spotted the gigantic Goromo Wolf marching across the forest while topping down trees that stood in his way.

Valka pushed her away. "Just run! He can't catch you if he's only looking for me!"

At first, Zeema was skeptical.

Valka yelled, "Run!"

Zeema couldn't hesitate. She ran off in a random direction as she ignored Genghis Khan's presence. She didn't look back to see if Valka either stayed or went her own way to escape the beast. Zeema could hear the footsteps decreasing in volume, giving her the clear signal of its intended footpath.

* * *

Zeema just kept on running. Despite beginning to grow a little short of breath, she managed to make it up a hill. More and more dead trees and dry bushes surrounded her, but she was able to find herself on the edge of a steep incline. Down below was a thick ravine, similar to the one where she and Ketakor first met. She finally stopped and relaxed as she sat down on a rock. She needed water after what she had been through. She hoped she would find a well somewhere, even if there was a good chance that it didn't exist on this island.

A sudden growl in the distance made her more vigilant as she crouched down on the ground. She looked around to see where it came from. She had have found her answer in just a few seconds. On the other side of the ravine, Valka ran as fast as she could. Behind her, Ketakor let out a roar while charging right for her. Zeema couldn't help Valka at all. She was too far away to even try to assist her in her escape.

With her sword in her hand, Valka persevered in her escape from the beast. She ran as fast as she could. Ketakor could almost reach her with its hands. Zeema kept watching as Ketakor suddenly made a giant leap. The anthropomorphic wolf flew right above Valka and made a solid landing in front of her. Zeema could feel the ground shake as a result of the sudden impact. Valka fell to the floor as Ketakor now towered over her, blocking her way with his own two feet. Valka quickly stood up from the ground with her sword still in her hand. It would prove to be quite handy as Ketakor reached down with his hand and closed his fingers around Valka. The Viking struggled to escape its grip just like Zeema did. She tried to push his fingers away, but Ketakor lifted her up in the air. The wolf licked his lips. Valka kept her sword close to her, ready to strike just as Ketakor opened its salivating mouth wide.

Without a moment to lose, Valka stabbed one of the sharp teeth with her sword. Ketakor howled as it lowered its arm and let go of Valka. She landed safely on the ground. Ketakor began to write in agony. Valka looked up at the cliff beside her. She put her sword back in the hilt and began to climb the steep incline. Ketakor touched his wounded tooth for inspection and growled. Zeema could see that it began to bleed. Drops of blood fell and landed on the dirt floor. The wounded warrior regained his senses and ignored his minor injury. He turned around to see its next meal climbing up and trying to depart from the gorge.

Valka was already halfway up the cliff. Ketakor reached up with his claws, but failed to grasp her. He scratched the surface just as Valka moved away from it. Zeema could only hope that Valka would escape in time.

And then, Ketakor narrowed his eyes. He clenched his fists and banged them against the cliff. The direct collision caused the ground to shake. Valka almost lost her balance just as Ketakor produced those rhythmic vibrations. Pebbles and even boulders from the top of the cliff began to fall. One of the boulders barely missed Valka as it dropped to the bottom of the ravine. With all those pebbles and small rocks hitting her, she had trouble reaching her destination.

Zeema held her breath. She couldn't tolerate the Viking's struggle. Watching her try and avert the relocation to the belly of the beast made Zeema feel tense. Ketakor continued to bang his fists against the wall. More boulders slipped from the top and came tumbling down the slope. Valka tried to protect herself with her arms as even more rocks struck her body. Ketakor roared, its vehement passion at an all-time high.

And then, Valka could no longer hang on. The falling rocks caused her to lose her balance and fall off the cliff. Ketakor opened his hand and watched as Valka landed right on his palm. He growled as he trapped her in his closed fingers once more.

Zeema gasped and watched in horror as Valka became powerless in front of the beast. She had no chance to reach for her sword as it stayed in the scabbard. She tried to push his fingers away as a desperate attempt to avoid being consumed. She even tried to kick them away with her legs. But Ketakor kept a firm grip on her. Valka was now horrified, her look of fear made complete by her misfortune. Ketakor opened his mouth and began to pull her right into it. Valka closed her eyes and turned away, forcing herself to try and ignore the pain that she would have to endure when being crunched by two rows of sharp teeth.

The big boulders, however, kept falling. The biggest ones hit Ketakor on the back. He growled as they interrupted his special moment. Zeema could see a row of huge boulders on the top of the cliff, which slowly but surely slid down the slope one by one. And all of a sudden, the entire top of the cliff gave away. Ketakor looked up and saw them tumbling down. They struck him down and made him collapse. He loosened his grip on Valka, who leapt into the air and made a steady landing on the ground below. She moved away from the disaster while more gigantic rocks piled up on Ketakor. Within minutes, he was half-buried by the rockslide that he himself had caused. With his eyes closed, he lay unconscious amidst the newly made wreckage. Everything went silent again.

Zeema breathed a sigh of relief to see that Valka had remained unharmed. The Viking began to run off again.

Zeema called out her name. The echo had reached Valka, who turned around to see her standing on top of the other side of the gorge.

Valka shouted, "Go on! Get out of here! Find your friends and stay safe! I have other business to attend to!"

She ran off without saying another word. She left Ketakor alone and disappeared into the darkness. The Goromo Wolf would soon reawake and continued on with his mission. Zeema hoped that Valka would return to her family unscathed. In the meantime, Zeema ran off to search for her own comrades. Without a map, it would certainly be a complicated matter when finding the right direction. But she resisted her frustration and stayed optimistic while leaving the ravine altogether.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


	15. What Happened To Hiccup?

FIFTEEN

WHAT HAPPENED TO HICCUP?

* * *

The cave was located on top of a mountain. Right below it stood a steep cliff which would lead to a jagged ravine if anyone slipped in the most unfortunate ways. Stoick the Vast led his followers inside his temporary shelter. He showed them the interior, which appeared massive in terms of space. One would be careful with the stalactites and stalagmites that occupied various sections of the cave.

Reverix the Viking looked to see if he could spot any spies lurking around the mountain while his comrades entered the cave in silence. Once inside, numerous glowing crystals (the same ones used for the torches) had been kept in a pile in a corner. Stoick handed each of them to Reverix's team.

Barclay the Celt remarked, "We could have at least used some wood for a proper fire."

Stoick shook his head. "I can't risk it. These crystals will do."

Emilia the Spaniard asked, "What are these, anyway? I haven't seen anything like them."

"I don't know. But the Romans used to call them Rava. They're quite handy, and they're easier to use to light up a dark room."

Havoc the Roman looked around. "I don't see any blankets or pillows. I guess we'll just have to improvise."

Stoick put his sword away. "There's no need for that. I will need some help when I return to the temples."

Barclay raised his eyebrows. "Do you mean that you're going to fight them again?"

"I have to. I need to take my son back."

Furlock the Gaul chimed in. "Hey, uh, we're sorry for shooting all those arrows at Hiccup. We didn't know what we were in for."

Stoick remained as serious as he could ever be. "Just don't do it again."

"Fair enough."

In just a few minutes, Donner the Dane had been chosen to guard the cave's entrance. He gladly showed off his tightened fists.

"Nobody would _dare_ run past me when I have these."

Strike the Icelander almost laughed. "Why use your fists when you could borrow one of my bear claws?"

He waved his bear-claw gauntlet at Donner as if he tried to persuade him to make a purchase.

Reverix patted the Dane on the shoulder. "He'll be fine."

The rest of the group managed to adapt to their new environment very quickly. Stoick introduced them to several buckets of pure water. The pirates ran immediately for the buckets. They used cups to scoop up the water and help quench their own thirst.

"Don't drink too much of it. There's barely any of it on this island."

Denin scratched his head. "Yeah, and it looks like it hasn't rained for a long time."

"You're correct. It hasn't rained on this island for over a hundred years."

Reverix finished drinking his water. "Even Berk wouldn't have a drought of that magnitude."

"I think I have an idea why it's so dry."

Denin raised a finger. "Let me guess. It's the blood, isn't it?"

Stoick sighed. "Yes. Rain can wash it away, and so this island's drought is a curse."

He walked away without saying another word. Confused, Denin kept on drinking from one of the buckets.

* * *

Soon after filling their bellies with water, the pirates didn't rest. Most of them spent their time sharpening their weapons with their whetstones. Their took care of their weapons the same way they would take care of their own lives. At the same time, however, they tried not to make any loud noises. They knew that the sounds would echo outside of the cave and might give their mortal enemies an obvious hint of their whereabouts.

Denin searched through a small pile of weapons and found a dagger similar to the one he currently used. It had features and characteristics of the same kind, which made him decide to use it and make up for the other dagger he had given to Zeema the Egyptian.

Reverix asked him, "Do you know where you last saw Zeema?"

"She dropped down and landed about a mile away from where we first attacked. I'm sure she's lost."

"Let's hope we'll be able to find her. I can't bear to lose another comrade."

Anton the Bulgarian sat close to the two of them. He sharpened his scythe with his own personal stone. "Reverix, I must say that this might be the first time where I am at a dead end."

Reverix asked, "What do you mean?"

"There are too many interpretations of what is going on here. We have information from Romans, Russians, Celts, and the Mongols. It's making it harder for me to choose who to believe. This island is stuck on random directions."

Denin sighed. "I am starting to feel the same way. It's almost hurting my head whenever I think about it."

Anton started stuffing his pipe with herbs. "But we're in luck. We can at least erase this confusion for a while."

He inhaled from his pipe before exhaling a large puff of smoke. "Your friend from Berk should give you all the answers."

Reverix put his sword back in its scabbard. "That's about the only thing we can do."

* * *

He and Denin found Stoick in a different area of the cave. After passing through a brief and narrow corridor, they entered a small chamber the size of a typical bedroom. Stoick sat in a corner with a look of absolute misery. He held a helmet in his hands. Denin looked closer to see that it belonged to Hiccup. The one he used whenever he rode with Toothless the Dragon.

Reverix took a seat in front of Stoick. "We need to have a talk."

Stoick still had his eyes on the helmet. "I can't say anything."

Denin sat beside his uncle. "Where did you find that?"

"On the other side of the island."

Stoick's tone of voice was mellow but also full of sorrow. "It's the only thing that will remind me of him."

Reverix knew what this would lead up to. "Stoick…what's going on?"

Stoick was silent for a moment.

Reverix continued, "What does Genghis Khan want?"

Stoick finally looked up with a more solemn stare. "He wants the dragons and their riders. He needs them for his empire. His reign has grown more powerful now that he has complete control over his new family."

"How did Hiccup and his friends change so much? Did they…did they drink his blood?"

Stoick slowly breathed through his nostrils and didn't say a word.

Denin had to mention a new discovery. He brought out Hiccup's journal and showed it to Stoick. "I found this in a village near the coast. It belongs to Hiccup. I can recognize the handwriting. What bothers me are the last several pages. He basically wrote that Khan has forced them to drink something…something that's torturing him from within."

He opened the book and showed Stoick the last page. "These were his last words."

The words, " _SAVE ME FROM MYSELF_ ," still appeared troublesome to the human eye. Stoick was silent. His eyes remained dejected.

Denin closed the book. "Stoick, what happened? What happened to Hiccup?"

Stoick slowly rubbed his palms together before changing them into tightened fists.

"Hiccup went missing. He and his friends had discovered this island on accident. They wanted to explore it, but the Mongols had already arrived. As soon as the riders first set foot on this island, the Mongols had them captured. I don't know what happened next, but Valka and I had to see for ourselves why our son didn't return in time for dinner. We took our dragons and flew in the late night. When we found the island, it took us a very long time to search for even a trace.

"And then, we heard him in the morning. He was screaming…screaming in pain. Valka and I ran as fast as we could toward his voice. We found him in the middle of the village. He was on the ground…writhing in agony in a puddle of the same black blood destroying his body. Valka and I ran up to him. We assured him that everything would be okay. But he kept screaming. I tried to hold him in my arms, but he didn't stop twisting and turning. The black blood dripped out of his eyes and mouth. It even tore through his skin and made him bleed even more. Valka and I had to get him out of here.

"But then, I saw it. I saw the blackness in his eyes. It was as if he was possessed by a demonic spirit. I couldn't understand what was happening to him. All of a sudden, he stopped moving and growled at me like a mutated beast. I let him go. I watched in horror as my own son transformed into a completely different person. He looked at his own parents with silent hatred. Valka and I tried to talk some sense, but he didn't listen. He gave us the coldest stare that I've ever seen.

"He had become an absolute fright. All of that black blood spilling out of his mouth, his eyes, and his open wounds broke my heart. I didn't even notice his new reptilian foot until he turned around and walked away. We watched him leave the village. Valka and I ran after him, hoping he would remember who we were."

Denin asked, "What happened next?"

"Everything that came after…happened so fast. The Mongols attacked our home, with a little help from the dragon riders. Everyone in our tribe had been mutilated, many of them killed while others converted to Khan's side. Not only did I lose my son, but I lost my people. Genghis Khan is victorious. If he knew nothing about this island, everyone and everything would remain normal. Now…all I have left is Hiccup's helmet. It keeps me from giving up hope. I can bring my son back to the good side. I…I just need to know how."

Denin never felt more depressed. "I'm really sorry."

Reverix asked, "Where's Valka?"

Stoick closed his eyes for a moment. "She's out there somewhere. I hope to see her again."

Reverix leaned forward. "Listen. We keep hearing conflicting information. Hiccup called this island the Land of a Thousand Scars, but the Romans call it something else. The Mongols see this place as a golden opportunity, but the Russians see it as a prison. The Celts believe that a dragon named Voriak is a demonic spirit with poison in its veins. Some of it seems to be blood, but it also looks and smells like black oil. We are stuck in our own confusion here. We can't decide which is true or false."

"I have seen enough to know what I must do. I need to free the dragon riders from Genghis Khan's command. That is the only thing I can do. I have no time for ancient myths."

Denin groaned. "I just want to know what the black stuff is. I can't decide if it's blood or oil."

Stoick already had an answer. "It's both."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've learned the truth this afternoon. That is why I refuse to light a fire. Because I don't want Hiccup to lose his life so easily."

Denin grew tense. "It's in his blood, isn't it? There's oil in his veins."

Stoick narrowed his eyes. "His blood is no longer his own. Genghis Khan drained my son's blood and replaced it with someone else's. Furthermore, he mixed it with black oil…for the sole purpose of fending off attacks. I had to protect Hiccup from all of those fiery arrows. Khan is forcing me to dispose anything that can ignite and be used as a weapon. He wants us to stay away from the dragon riders until the cycle is complete."

"What cycle?"

"When the sun rises, Genghis Khan will officially be the father of our child. Hiccup will be a part of Khan's lineage. And so will Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, and the Thorston twins. All of the oil will make an exit from out of their bodies, but their new blood will stay inside of them. They will be a part of his kingdom. We have only several hours to find a way to reverse it all."

Denin couldn't believe it at first. "So…Hiccup's blood is no longer inside him?"

"It's kept in a vase…over there."

He pointed at something behind Reverix and Denin. Both of them turned around to see a giant vase with a cork on top standing in a corner. The body featured colorful Oriental artwork from the outside.

Denin felt speechless, while Reverix asked, "How the hell did you find it?"

Stoick replied, "I stole it. And now, I have to keep it. I must find a way to put it back inside Hiccup's body."

"This black blood is more complicated than I thought."

"It's even worse. The blood inside him…it is alive."

"Alive?"

"It lives. It has a life of its own. I've seen it come to life many times. It is completely dangerous and should be avoided at all costs."

"What kind of blood can do that?"

"This dragon you call Voriak…he may not exist, but there _has_ to be something out there that made the Land of a Thousand Scars the way it is."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


	16. Suffer Or Surrender

SIXTEEN

SUFFER OR SURRENDER

* * *

Charred remains were the only things that Valka could smell. She had found herself on top of a mountain. The smoke had raised her curiosity and she felt the need to explore another part of this island, no matter how painful the absolute truth would be. And when she got there, she couldn't believe what she witnessed.

Numerous dead dragons lay scattered all around the mountain. A clear majority of them had been burnt to a crisp. Some of them had been sliced open, with their rotting organs resting on the dirt floor beside them. Thick trails of smoke rose above their bodies as a result of their true and unfortunate fate. Valka had to cover her mouth and nostrils with her hand seeing as how the stench had grown much too intolerable at times.

She walked deeper into the battleground. She could see nothing but dead dragons all around her. The battle that transpired on this mountain must have been victorious for the enemy. Valka could only imagine her own precious dragon being one of the victims. She tried not to believe it. She only hoped that everyone that she loved in her life stayed alive.

Valka had to move on. She couldn't bear to see these reptilian creatures this way. She felt ready to explore the other side of the mountain. She chose a different route in order to leave this place. She thought she would depart from this dead zone and enter a different and more slightly pleasant part of the mountain. But all she could find were more dead bodies. This time, they were human.

Not far from the place where the dead dragons lay, approximately two dozen human bodies had been tied to poles positioned in three straight rows. They shared the same fate as the dragons: all of them were charred from top to bottom. Thin trails of smoke arose from their bodies and up into the air. Valka had noticed that some of them had smaller bodies than the others. She quickly realized why that was so. Some of these charred corpses were children. All of them had been burned at their own stake and left to rot.

Valka tried hard not to shed a tear. Any one of these human bodies could have been friends from the Isle of Berk. They could have been Vikings that the Mongols had decimated. Valka couldn't grow more heartbroken. She had grown familiar with possibly any one of these people ever since her return to Berk. She detested Genghis Khan and his sinister intentions even more. She couldn't wait to strike back.

Suddenly, she stood still. She didn't move. The sound of someone humming a familiar Oriental tune caused her to reach down for her sword. She kept her fingers close to the hilt. She slowly turned around. She caught sight at the one man she had already searched for. She grabbed hold of the hilt and tightened her grip.

Genghis Khan had wandered into the dead zone and was now roaming around as if oblivious to the woman who stood twenty foot away from him. He continued to hum the same exact tune that she had heard before. And then, he stopped and faced her. He was truly an ominous figure. The smoke that rose behind him completed this fearsome image.

But Valka stayed composed. She narrowed her eyes as she anticipated a potential attack. "Don't stand close to me."

Genghis Khan had a sword in its own scabbard, but he kept his hands away from it. He remained solemn as he proclaimed, "You are wasting your time. You have no reason to be here."

Valka had the urge to pull her sword out of the scabbard. "You should fear someone like me."

Khan's expression didn't change. "You try to kill my own people. You have no right to end the lives of my army."

"You have no right to steal from my own family."

Khan gave a little smile. "The only way to live is to surrender. Give up. With everything that I have been given, I am immune to your urge to kill."

Valka narrowed her eyes. "It wasn't given to you. You _stole_ them from us."

"It appears that we have two different perspectives. I am sure that mine is the correct one."

Valka finally pulled her sword out of its scabbard. She showed him that her true intentions were serious all along.

Khan didn't look too impressed. "This is the wrong way and you know it."

"How else should I do it?"

Khan didn't do anything but stand there with a little smile on his face. "You are delusional. You refuse to believe that I have the power to conquer the rest of the world. You refuse to believe that the Riders of Berk are now my children."

"Hiccup is my son, and I will do anything to keep him away from you."

Khan took one step back. "Don't be stupid. You can't defeat me. Your husband can't defeat me. No one should underestimate a man like me."

Valka raised her sword and pointed it straight at him. "I'll have your head on a pike."

Khan slowly shook his head. "It's too late. I have already thought of a better use for you."

"And what would that be?"

"You will see."

Khan turned around and walked away in a nonchalant manner. Valka felt a little confused. He wouldn't have walked away from a fight. She quickly decided to follow him, even as he started to disappear into the thick smoke.

Then, she felt a rush of air right in front of her. She looked down to see that an arrow had barely missed her. It landed right on the floor. She held her breath. She looked to see who shot the arrow at her. But she could see nothing in the midst of all the smoke that rose above the charred remains of both humans and dragons.

She remained vigilant. She had disregarded her current objective owing to the interruption from a hidden figure in the shadows. She kept looking left and right to see if she could spot anyone in the smoke. And then, she spotted a distant figure. It seemed to be a slender and shadowy person. It was only for a second as another arrow flew right past her. She had to duck down to avoid getting struck by it. The arrow originated from the figure behind the smoke.

The distant figure started to step closer. Valka almost gasped. She immediately recognized the reptilian left foot.

As he drew closer, Hiccup had a bow and arrow in both hands. He still wore his Mongolian mask, which may have been a blessing considering how he appeared the last time Valka had seen him. He readied his next shot and released the arrow. Valka had to protect herself with her weapon. The arrow struck her sword and dropped to the floor. Hiccup kept coming closer.

Valka didn't know how to react. Seeing her own son attacking her made her want to question her next move. She couldn't form the right mindset for this one. She watched as Hiccup dropped his bow and unsheathed his sword. He looked ready to attack.

Valka kept her sword close. She knew that she had to defend herself. She didn't want to attack her son, but she couldn't just let him do the unthinkable, either.

Hiccup quickly raised his sword and began his first strike. Valka used her own sword to draw it away. She remained careful with her motions. Hiccup began to circle around her as if silently celebrating his next righteous kill. Valka took deeper breaths. She kept her eyes on Hiccup, who could have been unpredictable at this point.

Hiccup raised his sword a second time. Valka blocked it just in time. She anticipated his third strike even as he continued to circle around her.

Valka didn't know what else to do. She couldn't just attack her own son. A crisis of conscience began to unfold. She despised Genghis Khan even more for forcing her into this position.

Hiccup charged forward, but Valka moved out of the way. Hiccup immediately turned around as if ready for a counterattack. But Valka did absolutely nothing. She couldn't bear to even touch him with her own sword. She shivered. With Hiccup now in his new Mongolian wardrobe, Valka's mind raced through various emotions. Her inner turmoil reached new heights.

Hiccup stood still. His mask and his new reptilian foot terrified his mother. Valka couldn't handle the scenario. She had to make a quick decision.

Hiccup raised his sword again. But this time, Valka fell to her knees and set her own weapon on the floor. Hiccup stopped. He watched in silence as Valka made a statement.

"I surrender."

Hiccup lowered his sword. Valka bowed her head to guarantee a surefire victory for her son. Admitting defeat seemed to be the most rational decision she has ever made on this island.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


	17. A Simple Nightmare

SEVENTEEN

A NIGHTMARE

* * *

Denin didn't have to go to sleep, but he did. He sat down and leaned against the wall for a moment. He closed his eyes, and expected to open them again. But he didn't open them again. He found himself in his own reverie, instigated by exhaustion.

And it wasn't an ordinary dream. A nightmare ensued. The young Viking could see the Land of a Thousand Scars. A majority of the island appeared to be on fire. Giant flames had risen toward the night sky. The smoke gave the moon zero chance to escape its shroud. There was only silence all around, no sign of a break in the solitude.

Denin stood at the coast. He could see nothing but the ocean and the island being ablaze. And then, he saw the dead tree standing alone on the rocks. The same one that he and the rest of the pirates had discovered when first setting foot on the island. Its dead branches had something hanging from them. Various apparel remained hanging from the ropes that bound them. They were the clothes that the dragon riders had been wearing for quite some time. Denin stepped closer. He easily recognized the shirts and pants worn by Snotlout, Fishlegs, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and Astrid. Their entire bodies had been replaced by wooden stick figures that the Mongols had used. Every single one of them swung slightly from left to right as they had been caught by the soft breeze that originated from the fires.

But Hiccup's clothes were missing. Denin tried to get a closer look, but he found none of them on the spot. He slowly turned around, and he almost wanted to escape. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III stood just several feet away from him. He wore the appropriate clothing to give him the right impression. But something had changed about him.

He didn't have a face. In fact, his face was nothing but complete blackness. Black liquid dripped down and made a mess on his attire. Denin had a realization. This had been the same appearance that the fallen Mongol had back in the dungeon. Hiccup's entire face was drenched with so much of the black liquid, that his eyes and nose and mouth had disappeared underneath the thick layer.

Denin felt more afraid than ever. Hiccup just stood there with a faceless stance. The distant inferno was behind him and continued to burn bright. Denin couldn't say anything. He just watched as Hiccup took one step forward. The dragon rider still had his reptilian foot in place. He reached out with his hand.

* * *

Denin woke up. Startled, he almost bumped his head against the wall as he broke away from his nightmare. He looked to see that he still took shelter in Stoick's cave. Several of his comrades spent their time sharpening their weapons. Havoc the Roman worked on his spear, while Emilia the Spaniard wiped away the residue off of the sharpened blades of her boomerang. Kinesh the Indian, on the other hand, kept practicing with his throwing knives. He pretended to throw one before keeping it in between his fingers. He licked his lips like a satisfied sadist.

Denin sighed. He didn't intend to go to sleep any time soon. He checked his dual daggers and made sure that the blades had been sharpened.

Havoc noticed a change in the cave. "So you're awake. That was fast."

Denin asked, "How long did I sleep?"

"Only a few minutes."

"That's good. I didn't want to go longer than that."

"Pretty bad dream, huh?"

Denin put his daggers back in their holster. "It looked like the island was on fire."

"Oh, we don't want that to happen."

Kinesh gave a light but creepy chuckle. "Maybe it'll happen, and we won't even know when."

Denin raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, sure."

Emilia had put her boomerang away. "I hate this place. I really wish we could just fix our ship and leave."

Denin replied, "We have no other choice. We have to know what's going on here. Even if it is pretty confusing."

"That's the hard part. I don't _want_ to know what's going on here."

"Me, neither."

Havoc used a cup to take a sip from a water bucket. Then, he smiled. "You know something? I might as well take it like a man. We've got a Mongol who wants to take over the world, and we're just standing here waiting for the attack. I bet you we're going to become heroes. We'll spoil the fun. We stop Genghis Khan from doing his usual shtick, and we'll be treated like absolute royalties. We'll go down in history as the most badass pirates of them all."

Denin almost laughed. "You might be exaggerating, but you're really not wrong."

"I can't wait to kick this guy's ass."

Kinesh had a sinister grin. "Yeah…kick his ass once and for all."

Emilia didn't look too confident. "Are you sure we can do this, though? I mean, there's only a dozen of us."

Havoc replied, "Hey, anything is possible. Just think. You throw your boomerang and it'll cut Genghis Khan's head off."

"Sounds tempting enough."

Denin turned his head to see his uncle having a quiet discussion with Stoick the Vast on the other side of the cave. It definitely wouldn't be classified as a gleeful talk. Both men looked quite solemn. Perhaps they discussed matters regarding the Dragon Riders of Berk. Denin decided not to intervene. Instead, he would rather stay with his closest friends until they would ultimately depart from the cave.

Havoc finished cleaning his spear. "Well, I'm already ready."

Denin nodded. "I just hope that Zeema is okay."

Emilia asked, "Do you think she's turning into one of _them_?"

Denin fought against the scenario in his head. "I doubt that."

Anton the Bulgarian had arrived. He inhaled from his smoking pipe and said, "We'll be out of this cave shortly. Be prepared for the worst."

Denin replied, "Don't worry. We don't have to be afraid of the unknown anymore."

"Good."

As Anton left, Emilia whispered to Denin, "What about the black blood? Who does it really belong to, anyway?"

Denin had already been informed of the blood that infiltrated Hiccup's body and changed him. "I'm not too sure about it. But we just have to be careful with it. It's not something that should leave this island."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…


End file.
